


A Prime Performance

by aellisif



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: AU with a side dish of crack and fluff and social activism, Awkward Romance, Film Industry, Other, Slow Burn, giant alien robot soap opera (according to my beta), sparkling holovids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23926036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aellisif/pseuds/aellisif
Summary: For vorns, Megatron has worked on sparkling holovid seriesRoll out, Roll on!,impersonating supervillain Megatronus. His heroic counterpart Orion Pax, however, has not been as consistently cast; in fact, the last season saw former Orion Pax-actor Sentinel become Prime and leave the sparkling holovid business.Now it is up to Matrix Studio owner Alpha Trion to find a replacement, and he isn’t going to settle for anything but the true Orion Pax …
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 242
Kudos: 212





	1. Prime-Time!

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> this is my first foray into the Transformers-fandom, although thanks to Corona, I have been consuming an insane amount of Transformers-fanfiction lately. Thank you therefore to every author who has contributed to my entertainment :-)
> 
> I have to admit that most of what I know about Transformers, I have read up on, since I don’t recall much of the original Cartoon, and have only watched bits and pieces of TFP. Criticism and/or additional information is always welcome, as is feedback generally, so please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think :-) This is an AU on purpose, because it was what felt safest for me to write, knowing as little as I do, but that doesn’t meant I’m not trying to stay somewhat true to the characters.
> 
> That said, I totally blame all of this on COVID-19.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Come on, Megatron, rise and shine!”

Megatron grunted as someone shook him roughly. An annoyed vent could be heard, then someone bent over him and hot air met his plating. It was not comfortable. “Megatron, you need to be in the kibble room in less than half a groon, and I swear to Primus I won’t drag you out of berth again! If you wanna be late, fine, be late! See how _Optimus Prime_ is gonna like that!”

Megatron was generally very good at ignoring threats like that, and he had long since perfected the art of recharging as long as possible and still be in the kibble room on time (a skill one acquired when one was a young actor fresh out of school and jobs and had to work at all odd groons to make ends meet). The designation, however, had his processor booting up at record speed.

Starscream sniggered at him, arms crossed, as Megatron almost fell out of his berth in his hurry to rise. His red optics gleamed with satisfaction. “Oh, I should’ve thought of this way sooner!”

“Shut up!” Megatron growled and swatted at him. “Get away from me!”

“Soundwave’s still in the washracks, so you’ll have to polish your plating in here!” Starscream sang as he left Megatron’s berthroom. “Don’t you dare use the common area, you’ve left enough polish stains on the furniture as it is!”

“I don’t polish myself in the mornings!” Megatron growled at his retreating back and then shook his helm to clear the last threads of recharge fluxes from his processor, sighing heavily. Great. So Soundwave was in the washracks, which meant that Megatron would have at most ten kliks to shower. He groaned and dropped his helm into his servos. Yes, he remembered now that he was indeed due in the kibble room early today. Because today, they were recording the first real battle between Orion Pax and Megatronus, and that meant that today, Megatron was going to share the kibble room with Optimus Prime as they were getting ready.

Joy.

He could either wait for Soundwave to finish up or get to the studio early and use the washracks there. Knowing Soundwave, his chances of actually having enough time to properly clean himself were about 40% higher if he went to the studio.

Without further ado, Megatron stood and headed out, throwing Starscream a glare – which, of course, the glitch ignored – and threw himself into the air from their balcony. He could walk, sure, but flying would get him there faster. It was only about seven kliks from their apartment to the sprawling complex that made up Matrix Studios on the outskirts of Kaon, right behind the less smoke-producing factories, and air traffic at this time was sparse. Most mecha in Kaon lived according to the shift patterns in the various factories and energon mines that cemented Kaon’s importance, and seven vorns ago, the miners and workers had finally succeeded in negotiating shift patterns that would allow every working mech to enjoy at least some groons of the day-cycle. Megatron remembered those times before the change, remembered going out in the dark and returning at dawn. He had been built as a miner, a heavy-duty frame, and he had never forgotten that, despite not having worked as a miner in six vorns now. Matrix Studios, owing to the fact that it mainly produced low-budget sparkling holovid series, did not pay their actors a lot of shanix, but its location on Kaon’s outskirts meant cheap apartments were fairly easy to come by, and Megatron was almost always in work. With his huge frame and raspy voice, he made a formidable villain. It wasn’t the kind of roles he had dreamt about when he finished his night-cycle courses at the Kaon Academy of Arts, but it paid the bills and, well, Iacon and its high-brow theatre and holovid scene were overrated anyway. Like Starscream kept telling everyone who would stop long enough to listen, if he had to watch one more adaptation of _The Turning of the Screw,_ he was going to offline himself. Personally, Megatron was more bored with what felt like adaptation ten thousand of _Sense & Sensory Ability_. In any case, scriptwriters in Iacon weren’t any more inventive than those in Kaon, so whatever.

Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself. He had known from the start that as a mining frame, it wasn’t going to be easy for him in the holovid business, unless he wished to go into a very specific branch of it, where huge, bulky mecha were always welcome. To be honest, Megatron much preferred shooting sparkling holovids, even if his roles there were limited to the bad guys, while the good guys … well …

He touched down on the landing strip just outside the complex, transformed and headed in, the guards at the gate barely looking up as he passed through. Good, he still had 19 kliks left. Enough time for a more thorough shower before he had to head to the kibble room, and anyway, now that he was at the studio, nobody was going to complain much if he was a few kliks late. He wasn’t planning to, of course, so he quickly put his head through the kibble room door and grunted a greeting at Knock Out and Breakdown so they knew he was around before he slipped into the washracks, rather satisfied with himself. His new Iaconian co-star wouldn’t be able to accuse him of being late, in fact, he was here early. Every bit as professional as the Prime.

To his surprise, he was greeted by damp air and the sound of running solvent upon entering the washracks. Megatron’s optic ridges shot up as he picked up one of the fresh towels and rounded the corner to the actual washracks. This was a first. Usually when he turned up at this time to use the studio washracks, he was utterly alone. Everyone else (read: everyone who didn’t share an apartment with Soundwave, who would take a groon in the washracks if Megatron or Starscream didn’t specify by when he had to be out) much preferred to shower at home.

Well, it appeared that he was going to have company today. That was fine by Megatron. He wasn’t a shy mech by any definition of the word, and in any case, he wasn’t going to clean any intimate parts, just make sure the night-cycle’s grease was out of his joints before the kibble came on, because he would be itching all day-cycle like the pit if he didn’t. It was maybe a tad embarrassing to have to shower here instead of at home, but most of the other cast and crew were familiar with Soundwave’s habits (or rather, Starscream’s endless complaints about said habits) and wouldn’t dare to ask any weird questions or draw any weird conclusions.

He rounded the corner and stopped dead at the sight of silver, blue and red plating covered in a slick layer of foam that was gently spread across a broad chassis by a soft sponge. The mech had shuttered his optics and held his face up to the spray of solvent, looking utterly content and relaxed, more so in fact than Megatron had ever seen him.

And then, before Megatron could even think about turning around and hurrying to the washracks in the next building over, the mech apparently sensed the optics on him (or heard the cooling fans turning on, which was much more likely), unshuttered his own and looked over his shoulder pauldron straight at Megatron.

“Oh,” said Optimus Prime, his brand-new battlemask suddenly snapping shut with a loud click, “Megatron. Good morning. Uhm. The washracks in my apartment are broken.”

Well, so much for that.


	2. A Prime Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thank you very much everyone for the kind welcome :-) I’m very happy you liked the first chapter, and hope you’ll enjoy the second one.
> 
> As far as updates are concerned, I don’t want to promise any set schedule, but I have a pretty big chunk of this written already, and it is mostly awaiting beta. So I am hoping I will get this finished soon-ish.

The whole thing started at a meeting several deca-cycles ago that they had been asked to attend by Alpha Trion, the owner of their studio and possibly the most well-known producer of sparkling holoseries in the history of Cybertron. The shows Matrix Studios produced had received more accolades, prizes and recognition in some form or the other than the walls of his office could possibly hold, so Alpha Trion had opted for the pragmatic solution and instead plastered said walls with holos of the crew and cast of each series instead.

He was still slowly but surely running out of space, but Megatron appreciated the gesture – honouring those who had made it happen instead of boasting of their achievements. It was one of the (many) reasons Starscream, Soundwave and he still worked for Matrix Studios, despite the comparatively low pay and the fact that Starscream and Soundwave filled two positions on most series they worked on, and were likely to continue doing so for the series this meeting was for. Megatron, being one of the main two starring roles, was generally exempt from this, although he knew enough about directing and editing from watching his friends work to help out if need be.

By that point, he was honestly still looking forward to another season of _Roll out, roll on!,_ not least because he had practically _created_ evil supervillain character Megatronus when he had first been given the role. Alpha Trion had even changed the character’s name from the original D-16 at the start of the third season in appreciation for Megatron’s work, when D-16 had been put into a new frame after having been almost killed by the series’ hero Orion Pax, D-16’s archnemesis, in the second season’s finale. Since then, Megatron had never even considered applying to another studio again, although offers had started trickling in after season four had won eleven awards in a row, three of which had been for his performance alone (Best Villain, Best Fighting Style, Best Menacing Voice).

The former actor of Orion Pax, Sentinel, however, had quit after the latest season, and Megatron could not help the sneer when he remembered just why.

Because he now was _Sentinel Prime._

Yes, stuffy, uptight Sentinel had managed to land a starring role in one of the big Iacon holovids, yet another of the hundreds of versions of _Mecheo & Femliet_ out there, and promptly been declared Prime afterwards.

Megatron had seethed for weeks afterwards.

For that matter, so had everyone on the cast, especially old Ratchet, who had played Orion Pax’s most trusted friend and advisor Hatchet since the very start, and spent a not inconsiderable amount of time teaching Sentinel the ropes. One stupid holovid (even if it was four groons long and terribly tragic) and Sentinel was suddenly elevated from being a third-rate sparkling-series actor to Prime? Megatron wouldn’t have said anything, he really wouldn’t have, if Sentinel had been doing great holovids besides working on _Roll out,_ but _one_ stupid holovid?

No matter how good the performance, awarding him the title of Prime was pretty steep. It wasn’t even the best adaptation of Shakespark’s works, and Sentinel was most definitely no Optimus Prime! With him, Megatron was quite prepared to admit that the mech had worked for his fame and reputation. He still wasn’t exactly a _fan,_ more so because he knew for a fact that Optimus Prime had been in the business for a shorter amount of time than Megatron (but still long enough to have starred in almost 700 holovids by this point), but, well, nobody could deny that Optimus Prime’s performance in _Mechlet_ had been a piece of true art. He still had the benefit of having been trained at Iacon’s most prestigious acting school, but Megatron couldn’t exactly say that the mech didn’t have the talent to back up his training.

He was also much nicer to look at than Sentinel, despite what the various Orion-Pax-fans might be writing on various online forums (which Megatron very much did not check regularly, thankyouverymuch. Starscream and Knock Out, however, couldn’t keep quiet about all of the gossip on there while on set).

Regardless of his opinions on Sentinel’s looks and sudden fame, Megatron was equally delighted that Alpha Trion had decided to okay a new RoRo-season and worried about who was going to replace Sentinel on the show. Orion Pax had switched actors once already, which they had had to explain by him dying and being resurrected by means of the Solus Forge (which had gotten Alpha Trion into no end of trouble with the Temple of Primus, since the priests strongly felt that their culture’s revered artefacts should not be used as a plot device in a sparkling holovid series). Not knowing how Sentinel’s little stint at Fluxworks would work out, the last season had ended with Orion Pax pursuing Megatronus to a little planet somewhere at the edge of the galaxy to recover a variety of important and potentially devastating devices Megatronus had stolen. Given the popularity of the show not only with sparklings, but also their creators, Alpha Trion had been on the verge of handing out scripts for the next season when Sentinel announced he wasn’t coming back.

 _That_ had put quite a bit of a dent in his popularity. Not that Sentinel cared. After all, he was a _Prime_ now.

Alpha Trion had promptly cancelled the new season and put the whole cast and crew to work on another series (because Alpha Trion _cared_ when his employees couldn’t pay their rent) while he and Ultra Magnus, his secretary and right servo, figured out how to go on.

So yeah, maybe Megatron was holding a bit of a grudge against Sentinel. He didn’t exactly know what the new season would have entailed, but there had been talk of space bridges, aliens and other shenanigans, and he had been looking forward to that. He was glad that apparently they had reached a solution, less sure whether he would like the solution, and hoping fervently Sentinel’s replacement wasn’t going to be a total flop. It was endlessly annoying to work beside someone who you couldn’t take seriously, and it had been difficult enough with Sentinel even at the best of times.

Well, they were about to find out, if the message Ultra Magnus had sent them this morning was any indication.

“I really hope it’s not going to be yet another grounder,” Starscream huffed as they made their way to Alpha Trion’s office.

“Orion Pax has always been a grounder,” Megatron replied absent-mindedly and Starscream rolled his optics.

“They already gave him a jetpack last season so you could do air battles, why not make him a flyer this time? A pretty, elegant seeker? I mean, did you see Sentinel -”

Megatron grumbled, not wanting to be reminded of Sentinel’s rather graceless attempts at flight. “Because _I_ already have a jet altmode, Starscream, and you’re a seeker, and _Roll out_ is supposed to appeal to all sparklings, not just those with flight capacity! You can’t have both main characters be flyers.”

Starscream fluffed his wings and grumbled something about how this was unfair, but Megatron paid him no mind. Starscream, despite getting to direct episodes, and thus getting to order Megatron around, still disliked the fact that Megatron held the starring role (and highly disliked his character’s name, but Alpha Trion had never seen fit to change _Screamer_ to something more dignified. After all, he was Megatronus’ side-kick, and therefore destined to be the comic relief). Instead he stopped, knocked at the door and waited for Alpha Trion to call them in.

As usual, the old mech was effusive, but genuine. He rose with a welcoming smile and ushered them all to the conference table in the middle of the room. “Megatron, Soundwave, Starscream, it’s such a pleasure to see you, and Starscream, do let me express my gratitude for what you did with that episode of _Rescue Mecha,_ the critics loved it!”

Starscream sat up a little straighter, wings fluttering with pleasure. Megatron looked at Soundwave and permitted himself a slight snort. Soundwave turned his helm so only he could see his visor and flashed -.- at him. Megatron tried not to laugh.

“Ultra Magnus will be here in a moment with our new Orion Pax,” Alpha Trion said, positively glowing with excitement, which Megatron had to admit was one of the most endearing qualities of the old mech. He genuinely cared about so many things, be it the holovid series he produced, his employees or sparklings.

Actually, sparklings made the top of that list. Alpha Trion was known to adore them.

“As you all know, we were in a bit of a tight spot after how the last season ended,” Alpha Trion said, the hint of a frown the only indication of his disapproval of Sentinel’s decision. “We believe that we have found a solution, though. Please, have a datapad.”

He gestured to the datapads stacked up in front of them and they each reached for it while Alpha Trion continued talking. “As we all know, Megatronus has already arrived on that planet -”

“Terra,” Starscream said absent-mindedly, browsing the datapad’s contents.

“Terra, you are right, Starscream, where are my thoughts, so Megatronus has already arrived on Terra, and is busy setting up base to start experimenting with the artefacts he has stolen. Now, we do all feel -” by which he mostly meant himself, not the scriptwriters, Megatron knew, “- that a new planet comes with a number of different challenges, and since it will be populated by aliens, they might have very different vehicles.”

He beamed at all of them and Megatron looked up from the datapad and said, “A different altmode is easy to explain, what about the rest of Orion Pax’ frame?”

“Ah, yes!” Alpha Trion beamed even more. “Our poor Orion Pax will unfortunately encounter some difficulties entering the atmosphere, and endure a rather severe crash-landing.”

Soundwave, who was excellent at proof-reading scripts for continuity errors, put in a comment. “Orion Pax: already resurrected once. Another resurrection > plot device: overused.”

“Yes, there is that,” Alpha Trion agreed. “We are not planning on letting him die again, though. If you swipe to page 6, his crash-landing will take place at a very specific point of the planet, where Megatronus has already erected a structure using the Solus Forge.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge. “The Temple wasn’t impressed with that the last time,” he said, although he didn’t really care much about the Temple or religion, for that matter. He mainly didn’t want Alpha Trion to get in trouble with them yet again.

Alpha Trion waved him off. “Oh, I offered them to consult on the matter, and they were rather amenable afterwards. Ultra Magnus had some meetings with a very nice young priest, so that is all settled.”

Megatron looked at Soundwave, who appeared equally sceptical. “Alright then, what has Megatronus built?” he asked, resolving to look into the matter later with Soundwave. Alpha Trion looked rather triumphant.

“A time-turner!”

Starscream and Megatron reset their optics. Soundwave’s visor remained blank. “A time-turner.”

Alpha Trion nodded, excited. “Yes, well, that was at least his intention! He plans to use the time-turner to travel back in time and prevent Orion Pax’ forging, so he will never even be created. But you see, despite everything we know, we don’t really understand time yet, so what he has created instead is a device that turns back time only for the mech or femme inside it! Orion Pax, after his crash-landing, struggles to find help, happens upon the device, which Megatronus has left unguarded after he has realised it cannot be used to actually turn back time, and thinking it to be a stasis pod, crawls inside!”

He was gesticulating, a habit of his when he became excited about a plot or a character, although he generally tried to restrain himself. Megatron exchanged another look with Soundwave, biting down on his smile.

“The door snaps shut and the device starts working. Orion Pax’ functioning runs backwards, and before you can turn around -” Alpha Trion made a dramatic pause, then continued in a whisper, “- he is a sparkling again!”

That, Megatron had to admit, was better than another near-death experience, which were prone to happen almost every other episode anyway once Megatronus and Orion Pax met each other in battle.

“Megatronus is hardly likely to help a sparkling,” Starscream pointed out dryly. “Especially one that suddenly turns up in his time-turner.”

Alpha Trion smiled. “It is not Megatronus who finds the sparkling. We have decided to expand the team. In the future, Orion Pax will be assisted by a team of three mecha who were already on Terra, stranded there by the fall-out of one of Megatronus’ other experiments.”

Megatron raised an eyebrow. That was rather new as well. Orion Pax had had his faithful companion and almost-creator-figure in Hatchet all of this time, and generally a posse of guest-starring mecha who lived in whatever village or town he was required to save in the episode in question, but a permanent team? It did sound rather intriguing, if he was honest, even if it was going to take screentime away from Megatronus and his minions.

“And who, if I may ask, does that team consist of?” he asked just as there was a knock at the door. Alpha Trion brightened.

“Ah, Ultra Magnus is here! Come in, come in!”

Megatron turned around in his seat as the door opened and Ultra Magnus stepped inside, serious and efficient as always. Behind him trailed a slight blue femme, a bulky green and a little yellow mech. And -

Megatron stopped venting, optics going wide as the last mech in the group stepped inside, carefully closing the door. Alpha Trion’s words came from far away.

“I am very pleased to be able to announce that Orion Pax will be played by my old pupil Optimus Prime.”

Megatron could only stare as the big mech inclined his head, his optics taking all of them in and coming to rest on Megatron himself. “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” he said, and Primus, that voice was _really_ that deep.

Starscream had risen half from his chair, his eyes glued to Optimus. “Alpha Trion, this must be – I mean, for real?” he sputtered and the femme quirked her optic ridge up in obvious amusement. Alpha Trion smiled genially, but Optimus Prime said something before he could.

“Director Starscream. I am looking forward to working with you.”

Starscream’s vocaliser let out a rather embarrassing screech he tried to quickly distract from by resetting it. “I – yes, yes, so do I, Optimus Prime. It’s a pleasure indeed.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Alpha Trion pulled out a chair, gesturing for the femme to sit down, which she did, still visibly amused. Shuffling followed as the big green mech and his little yellow companion sat down, too. Optimus Prime, Megatron noted, waited until everyone else had chosen a seat before finding one directly opposite Megatron.

Great. He still hadn’t said anything and Optimus Prime was still looking at him as if expecting him to.

Megatron reset his vocaliser, turning to Alpha Trion. “It will be very difficult to explain how Sentinel’s frame could turn into -” he gestured at Optimus Prime, “- him.”

That was a singularly ill-chosen comment. Megatron would have winced, except he didn’t do wincing, so he simply kept looking at Alpha Trion even as Starscream covered his face with his servos, very likely at Megatron’s show of disrespect.

Alpha Trion did not seem much bothered. He handed out more datapads to the newcomers while he said, “This was indeed somewhat of a problem, but we have found a way around it!”

Megatron raised an optic ridge, curious. Sure, size- and even proportion-wise, there was some similarity between Optimus and Sentinel Prime, but the helm? No way, and Megatron would have Knock Out’s helm if their main kibble designer decided to hide Optimus Prime’s finials away. Not that he had any opinion on the matter, but part of the reason he had disliked _A Mid-dry-season’s Recharge Flux_ was that the tell-tale (and very expressive) finials had been covered by Mechtrius’ ridiculous crown-style kibble.

Once he had a datapad, Optimus Prime finally turned his attention away from Megatron, which was a relief. Ultra Magnus reset his vocaliser, signalling everyone that he was going to take over explanations, which Megatron likewise appreciated, since Ultra Magnus did not have Alpha Trion’s tendency to go off on a tangent (or twelve).

“Sparkling development takes a good amount of time, which, obviously, we cannot cover in the series” he said dispassionately. “In episode 3, the Terran team will therefore be joined by Hatchet, who will lead them on a mission to recover the time-turner so Orion Pax can be returned to his normal state. Unfortunately, simply reversing the process does not work, it can only accelerate growth, so Hatchet, at Orion’s insistence, programs a new form for him.”

Megatron gave a slow nod, feeling the blue optics on him again. “Right, that might work.”

Alpha Trion smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it will! I think our little lovely audience will be delighted with our new Orion Pax!”

Megatron glanced at Optimus Prime and wondered if they would be. Seriously, how in the pit had Alpha Trion managed to talk Optimus Prime of all mecha into accepting a role – even if it was the lead role – in a sparkling holovid series (even if that series was on the verge of becoming the longest-running series on the planet and immensely popular)?

And more importantly, how was this going to impact on their budget? They didn’t have the means to pay a thousands-of-shanix Shakespark actor like _Optimus Prime!_

“Sir, I believe introductions are still in order,” Ultra Magnus said dispassionately and Alpha Trion startled.

“Of course, of course! How frightfully impolite of me. Shall we do the rounds? Megatron, maybe you would like to start. Designation, role on the series and a tidbit about yourself?”

Megatron almost groaned. He hated these formal introductions as much as Alpha Trion loved them. “My designation is Megatron of Kaon, I have played Megatronus since season one,” he said stiffly, ignoring the part about the personal tidbit. Alpha Trion sent him a disappointed glance, but Soundwave had already engaged his speakers.

“Designation: Soundwave of Kaon. Role in _Roll out, Roll on!:_ Spymaster. Personal tidbit: Sound editor.”

Megatron smirked as Alpha Trion’s expression neared a pout. Starscream, of course, remedied that immediately. “Yes, well, my designation is Starscream, I play Megatronus’ right servo, a very important role since Megatronus is rather helpless without -” Megatron kicked him under the table and Starscream glared at him, “- and I also direct episodes. We have all been on the series since the very start, and I have to say, I am very much looking forward to the new season now.”

The next one was the femme. “I am Arcee of Iacon, my role on the series will be Ra-She. I originally trained as a Shakesparkian actress, and am looking forward to this new experience.”

Oh, great, another Shakespark specialist. As if Optimus Prime by himself wasn’t enough of an expense. Megatron tried not to roll his optics and resolved to ask Alpha Trion at some point who was paying for this.

The big green mech was looking at his servos, mumbling, “Bulkhead. I’m going to play Bulk. Uhm. I don’t really know what else to say?”

“What was your job before you became an actor?” Starscream cut in, taking his frame in with interest. “You look like you could be a Kaon local.”

Bulkhead startled slightly. “Uh, no, I’m from Iacon. I used to work in set design. Actually, this is my first real role. I’ve mostly done commercials so far.”

Starscream narrowed his eyes and smirked in a way Megatron knew looked mean to others, but actually meant Starscream was already trying to figure out how much instruction Bulkhead was going to need on set. “Huh.”

Optimus Prime stiffened slightly at the noise and Megatron glanced at him, wondering whether that related to Starscream or Bulkhead being a commercial actor. He had never gotten the impression this Prime was as stuck-up as other examples, but the fact remained that he was a Prime, and the rest of them were – well. Not Primes, that much was for sure.

“My designation is Bumblebee,” the small yellow mech piped up now. “Uhm, I don’t have much experience either, I’m actually still studying at the Academy in Iacon, but have taken a semester off. I’ll play Bee, and I’m looking forward to learning from all of you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bulkhead added hastily.

Everybody turned at looked at Optimus Prime. He gazed at all of them warmly. “My designation is Optimus Prime, I will be replacing Sentinel Prime as Orion Pax, and I am delighted to have this chance to work on a sparkling holovid series.”

He actually sounded sincere. Megatron sent a comm to Soundwave. >>Think they stripped him of his rank and now he’s trying to get at least some shanix to pay his rent?<<

>>Negative. Would have made headlines,<< Soundwave commed back. Megatron had to agree, and also, he hadn’t ever heard of any Prime being stripped of his rank after they had been awarded it. (More’s the shame, now there was no chance Sentinel would ever get his come-uppance.)

“Well,” Alpha Trion said, clapping his servos, “since we all know each other now, shall we go through the episodes one by one?”

Which was exactly what they did, and Megatron could feel his plating tingle under the hooded gaze of blue optics the whole time.


	3. Close Encounters of the Prime Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At present, I’m not certain when I will get chapter 4 finished, but please do enjoy chapter 3 in the meantime :-)

Technically, it wasn’t even like their first meeting had gone badly. It was just that Megatron felt disconcerted under that scrutinising blue gaze, and strangely judged. Also, Optimus Prime did not seem to be able to quite turn it off whenever they met after that first encounter, although luckily, it wasn’t all that often. They hardly interacted during the first three episodes, in fact, the only real scene they had together was when they battled each other after Orion Pax had been restored to a full-sized frame in episode three, so Megatron spent most of his time getting his new kibble fitted and rehearsing with Soundwave and Starscream, helping Starscream argue with Alpha Trion about the clips that were going to be used in the flashbacks of Orion Pax’ functioning and trying to get Scrapper and particularly Hook to finalise the set designs (which easily took as much time as the two former combined). He mostly met Optimus Prime when he and the new team left one of the conference rooms at Matrix Studios, which were used by everyone for the script-reading and prepping sessions. Starscream, contrary to their prior practice of simply rehearsing in their shared apartment, now insisted that they do it at the studio, arguing that he was busy preparing everything else and wanted to be able to relax once he got home. Since he was going to direct the first three episodes (apparently Alpha Trion had still not decided on who he was going to bring in), that meant he needed to be present for every script-reading, so Megatron usually crossed paths with him when the Prime came out of his session and Megatron went in to his.

Not that anything much happened either on those occasions. Everyone politely nodded at each other, said hello and was on their way, which had Megatron wondering whether they were staying in the studio’s guest-star apartments, since they were all from Iacon, which was quite a way off from Kaon. Not that he could really picture Optimus Prime staying in the comfortable, but far from luxurious accommodations that the studio owned.

Not his business though. His business was preparing himself to be at his best beside a Prime, and that was something he took very seriously. Regardless of the reasons behind Optimus Prime’s decision to suddenly stoop from the Iacon holovid and theatre scene to sparkling holovids, Megatron was not going to be satisfied with anything less but his best performance. He even went over the battle choreography for their first encounter more than once, which he hadn’t done since his early cycles on the show, because they had a fixed set of choreographies from which one was chosen for each episode, courtesy of a low budget. Every now and then, Alpha Trion engaged Megatron or Soundwave to write a new choreography, because they had both in their youth partaken in the half-illegal streetfights happening all around Kaon, but well, on the whole they simply made do with recording the fights from different angles, which confused most of their audience enough to not recognise that they were watching the same fight over and over again.

And since the fight routines were basically pre-programmed, there was also little need to rehearse them much beforehand. They knew from experience that it was much more expedient if the fighters in question got all their kibble on, then went for four or five dry rehearsals of the choreography, had their kibble straightened out and then went for it for real.

So yes, Megatron had expected to see Optimus Prime today. Stumbling over him in the studio washracks hadn’t been how he had expected to see him.

“Why are they broken?” he said, the first thing his processor could come up with, and immediately wished he could sink into the floor. Optimus Prime looked down at it as if the white tiles held some sort of answer.

“I am not certain. The apartment building seems to be older. I have already notified the proprietor.”

Megatron eyed him with uncertainty, not sure what to make of this information. With all the shanix Prime had made, surely he could afford an expensive, state-of-the-art apartment? Especially considering that they were going to be much cheaper in Kaon anyway than in Iacon. “You live in Kaon?”

Blue optics flickered back up to him and the battlemask retreated. Optimus Prime gestured to his face, a tad embarrassed. “I do apologise. I’m not yet used to it. Yes, I thought it would be easier if I moved here for the duration of the season.”

Megatron made a non-committal noise of acknowledgement and started moving, his chronometer making him painfully aware that he now only had nine kliks left anyway to get his shower. Optimus Prime, still standing under the running solvent, appeared to realise how bizarre the situation was and turned back to his own hot flow.

Megatron did notice, however, from the corner of his optic, that he appeared to be in a hurry to wash the foam off and make his escape as Megatron turned his own shower on.

“I will see you in the kibble room,” Optimus Prime said, the simple sentence sounding like a grave proclamation in his deep voice, and disappeared.

Megatron thunked his helm against the wall and groaned. Thank Primus all he would have to do today was whack at Optimus Prime with a sword, because he sure wasn’t certain he would be capable of any kind of conversation.

* * *

Luckily, so long as Knock Out was around, no other mech needed to say anything. Megatron could hear him chattering away already from outside the kibble room when he approached, half dreading having to sit still while Megatronus’ kibble was attached to his frame.

“- so there I was, looking through the buffers in peace and quiet, and then this salesmech comes up and starts – oh, hi Megatron. Have a seat, Breakdown’s got your kibble.”

Megatron moved past the first chair, where Optimus Prime was reclining, optics shuttered as Knock Out fiddled with the extension to his helm-crest (Megatron had been very glad to find out that Knock Out had no wish whatsoever to cover up the finials, but appeared to have gotten it into his processor that both the helm-crest and the smokestacks could be that much bigger) and sat down in the second one so Breakdown could start working.

“Pauldrons or horns first?” he asked and Megatron shuttered his optics as well.

“Horns,” he grunted, settling for the most hated part of his kibble. Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet managed to talk Alpha Trion into backing him up against Knock Out in reconsidering these particular additions to Megatronus’ kibble. Technically, they were the remains of yet another failed frame-modification that Megatronus had attempted in his never-ending quest for more power, but due to the viewers’ reactions, Megatron had been stuck with them ever since season six. They didn’t do anything much except render Megatron unable to walk through most doors without moving sideways, and were frequent victims of Orion’s Sun Saber, but apparently watching them get smashed or hacked off appealed to their audience.

Not to Megatron, who was the one having to carry them around and ending up with his neck cables aching, because no matter how thin Knock Out rolled the metal, every time they got whacked, Megatron’s helm was tugged along for the ride. He had yelled at Sentinel more than once for almost giving him whiplash, not that the effect of the dressing-down had lasted long.

Breakdown reached over and gently slipped the crown-like construction supporting the horns over Megatron’s helm as Knock Out continued chattering about whatever salesmech had considered themselves a better judge of the quality of paint this time. Fastenings slipped into place, magnets clicked and secured the whole thing atop his helm. Megatron immediately felt the additional weight and Breakdown hurried to adjust the helmrest of the kibble chair to ease the pressure on his neck cables.

“Right, pauldrons next. Left or right?”

Megatron unshuttered his optics as another field suddenly brushed against his, looking straight up at Knock Out, who was already extending his servos. “Helm up,” he ordered. “I redistributed the magnets after the last fitting to see if I could make it lighter. Feel any difference?”

Megatron obediently lifted his helm and grunted. “Not really.”

Knock Out looked unhappy, but turned back to his own charge. “Yeah, that’s something I wanted to give you a helms-up about, Prime, be careful with those. They’re not much more than foil, so try not to accidentally dent them during fights, unless you’re supposed to. I’ll have to swap the whole thing otherwise, and that’s a fragging hassle.”

“I see,” Optimus Prime said and Megatron quickly returned his helm to the chair, because those blue optics were staring at him _again._ “They are quite heavy, I assume?”

Knock Out sniggered and moved back to him. “Well, let’s just say that if Megatron really had to fight with them, they’d give his opponent some amazing advantages. Anyhoo. Mind getting up and into the paint booth for me?”

Prime obligingly stood and moved to the booth in question. “Stand up or sit down?” he asked Megatron’s usual question, and Megatron startled before he reminded himself that Prime stood at the same height as he himself, so would naturally have to sit down to allow Knock Out to paint his helm. Knock Out bustled around, but since the paint booth was behind Megatron’s chair and his horns prevented him from moving his helm in pretty much any direction except up and down, he couldn’t sneak a peak.

“Whichever you prefer, although you’ll have to stand less if I get your upper parts sprayed first.”

“Hold out your arm for me,” Breakdown commanded and Megatron shifted slightly so the magnets could find proper purchase on his shoulder. “Right, other side.”

The procedure was repeated to the sounds of solvent-removable paint being sprayed. Knock Out was quiet now; he was probably doing Prime’s helm, and that was always a tricky bit.

“Claws or cannon first?” Breakdown asked and Megatron grimaced. Either was possible, but if the fake cannon came on first, he later had to mind his claws as he slid it on, and if Breakdown did his claws first, he would have to put up with the weight of the cannon on his arm while Breakdown glued the claws on.

“Cannon,” he grunted, wondering if Prime had gotten his new swords attached before Megatron had come in, or if he had swords anyway. He was a warframe, possibly he did. Or maybe he had blasters?

Then again, he might have had his inbuilt weapons removed when he left the military in favour of becoming a holovid actor. Megatron knew for a fact that Optimus Prime had used either weapon in different holovids he starred in, but had never bothered to find out whether they were part of his frame or acting mods. Actually, now he thought about it, he had mostly considered them to be acting mods like his horns or his “fusion cannon”. After all, inbuilt weaponry didn’t have all of the safety precautions acting mods had. The most his fusion cannon could do was accidentally zap anyone stupid enough to stick a finger into the barrel (which, actually, was quite a popular game with sparklings when Megatron did publicity events. They giggled like mad. Their creators were usually much less impressed).

Not that it mattered today, because Prime was going to use Orion’s signature Sun Saber against Megatronus’ not-so-signature sword of indefinite make and varying design that usually shattered at some point during the fight, leaving Megatronus no choice but to retreat while shooting at (and consistently missing) Orion Pax.

Breakdown, who wasn’t half as chatty as Knock Out, was carefully attaching the claw extensions to Megatron’s digits one by one, which left Megatron little choice but to either shutter his optics and catch another few moments of recharge or start a conversation himself, which he had little inclination to. He didn’t normally mind, but with Optimus Prime right behind him, he felt their usual kibble room conversation topics were a tad inappropriate. Especially since one of their favourite games was to tune into an Iaconian Shakespark production on the screen in the kibble room, mute the audio and spontaneously re-dub the dialogues.

Another few moments of recharge sounded good and would have the additional benefit of distracting Megatron from the notifications popping up in his HUD concerning his heightened state of apprehensiveness. He offlined his optics and let himself drift in the sensations of Breakdown gently handling his servos and digits as he attached the claws. That, at least, was always nice. Megatron wouldn’t necessarily tell anyone, but he liked his servos being touched. Mining frames generally had a large amount of sensors in their servos to help them navigate in the darkness of the mines, and Megatron had never bothered disconnecting them after he left the mines for good. The only occasions he regretted that was when the kibble room mecha weren’t careful enough, but with Knock Out and Breakdown, it was almost as good as having a professional give his servos a massage.

“Chestplate,” Breakdown grunted once he was finished, and Megatron nodded, optics still offlined, as the surprisingly light chestplate was affixed to his own. There wasn’t that much difference between them, except that Megatronus’ chassis was a mixture of dark greens, silver and black, whereas Megatron himself was mostly silver with a few purple highlights. Also, the chestplate was much more … spiky, for lack of a better word. Everything about Megatronus was a lot more spiky than Megatron, and he sighed as he raised his helm from the chair to get up so Breakdown could attach all the smaller kibble pieces that came with becoming Megatronus.

“Knock Out, you almost done?” Breakdown asked even as he supervised Megatron getting up. “Give it a good, hard shake, Megatron.”

Megatron obligingly revved his engine so hard his whole frame and the attached additional bits rattled rather threateningly, and then startled so badly that everything rattled again when a deep voice suddenly said, “I have always thought Megatronus’ kibble is possibly the most elaborate in every sparkling series I have seen. Quite a work of art.”

Megatron turned around – carefully now, since he was going to be in for a world of pain if he destroyed anything in Knock Out’s kibble room by accident – and found that penetrating gaze again. Knock Out was positively beaming. “Why thank you, that’s very kind of you to say! It does take a lot of work, that’s for sure, not least because _someone_ is quite prone to breaking it.”

Megatron was too busy to pay much attention to Knock Out’s preening or his insults, though, because he was busy staring at _Orion Pax._

Which, technically, he had done many times during his functioning, and yet, for all that the prior two Orion Paxes had tried their best, Optimus Prime just was _it._ Gleaming silver smokestacks, helm-crest and finials proudly upright, battlemask closed, his chassis and frame painted in Orion Pax’ characteristic night-sky-blue with the tiny silver and golden highlights that made him look like an energon crystal reflecting light, he was, well, enough to make a mech’s vents stall. Or weak in the knee-joints. Or both.

Knock Out, picking up immediately on Megatron’s uncharacteristic silence, grinned and waggled his optic ridges. Slagger. “Well, what do you think, Megatronus? Up for fighting this Orion Pax?”

The battlemask retracted and Optimus Prime gave Megatron the tiniest hint of a smile. “I think it is I who should be worried. I am decidedly at a disadvantage regarding experience in fighting Megatronus.”

Was Prime paying him a compliment? Megatron wasn’t entirely sure. Thankfully, his vocaliser was still fully functional, so he said gruffly, “We’ll find out shortly, won’t we? Knock Out, we are running on a clock.”

Knock Out gave him an exasperated look but switched the paint bottles. “Yes, oh high and mighty Lord Megatronus. Have a seat, you’ll be finished momentarily,” he said sarcastically and Prime moved aside so Megatron could take his place in the paint booth. Knock Out scrutinised him and then waved at Breakdown. “Extra spikes!” he commanded and Megatron immediately wished his fusion cannon was real so he could shoot Knock Out straight in the helm. It was one thing to make that joke every single time he put the kibble on Megatron’s frame, it was quite another to make it in front of _fragging Optimus Prime!_

He glanced over and saw Prime’s optics practically glued to his frame. Megatron stared back, unwilling to back down because Knock Out absolutely had to be a slag-head while Breakdown handed said slag-head the tray with the remaining magnet-affixable kibble pieces that would complete Megatron’s transformation. Knock Out applied them to the right places with the confidence and surety that came from long practice, and then pushed Megatron down on the chair. “Shutter your optics!” he ordered and Megatron obeyed only too gladly. Breakdown was already looking at him and Optimus Prime having – well, were they even having a staring contest? Megatron couldn’t even say – with a slag-eating grin growing ever bigger on his face.

He turned to Prime just as Megatron shuttered his optics, saying “Right, want me to take you to the set?”, and Megatron found himself immensely relieved when Prime said, “Yes, thank you, Breakdown.”

Being watched that intensely by those blue optics was disconcerting enough without having to keep his own optics closed while he knew he was being stared at after Knock Out had made spike-jokes.

Of all things in the world.

Sometimes he hated their kibble designer for more reasons than the stupid horns on his helm.

* * *

By the time Megatron arrived on set as well, Starscream was busy arguing with Ravage, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw about camera angles while Soundwave lingered nearby, ostensibly setting something audio-related up with Rumble, but really, he wasn’t kidding anyone with that act. Megatron doubted he was even actively trying to, because the RoRo-crew was as much a constant as the main cast, and everybody knew that Soundwave would step in if he thought Starscream wasn’t treating his former apprentices properly.

On the set itself, Hook was still snapping at Bonecrusher, Scavenger, Mixmaster and Long Haul, with Scrapper nowhere in sight, which was absolutely no surprise at all, because the fight was taking place in an outside set. They had long since figured out that it was a bad, bad idea to let Scrapper and Hook work on the same set designs, so Scrapper got to do all the interior set designs, while Hook got to do all of the exterior sets, and everyone tried to keep them well apart.

Megatron ambled over, feeling a tad more protected now that he could hide behind Megatronus, and approached Optimus Prime, standing off to the side at the refreshments trolley Ratbat had set up and holding a cup of hot oil.

“Would you prefer going through the choreo inside or outside?” he asked and Prime turned to him, taking a moment to appraise Megatron’s whole frame. To Megatron’s great relief, it didn’t feel quite so intimate this time.

Then he smiled that tiny smile again, putting his oil cup aside and hefting up the Sun Saber in one servo. “Whichever you prefer.”

Megatron turned around and strode in the Constructicons’ direction. “Hook!” he bellowed. “Move off the set, we need it!”

Hook whirled around. “You have _no_ appreciation for art!” he snarled back and Megatron, familiar enough with his temper, bared his own sharpened denta.

“Off the set, Hook, _now!_ We need to run through the fight a few times, and if we let you finish, we’ll still be waiting next vorn!”

The other four sniggered openly as Hook flared his plating, obviously about to lash out, when Prime’s deep voice said, “We will make sure to not take long so you can finish your last adjustments while our kibble is checked over.”

Hook abruptly shut his intake and stared at Prime. Megatron turned around, raising an optic ridge, wondering what was going to happen now. He had never seen Hook retreat from a set he didn’t consider finished _without_ a fight. Which was, well, practically every set he’d ever built. On one memorable occasion, they had even had to bring Alpha Trion himself in to get him to see reason (or, perhaps more accurately, appreciate the danger to his paycheck in case he _didn’t_ let them start shooting).

Hook cycled a vent, measuring Prime from finial to pede, then turned around abruptly and grunted, “Break until they’re finished! No mech leaves the building, I want you back here the moment they’re done.”

Megatron’s other optic ridge joined the first. Mixmaster looked openly impressed, the others merely confused at the easy acquiescence, but after a moment of hesitation, they lost no time heading towards the refreshment trolley as Hook stomped off in the direction of the set design room.

Megatron measured Prime up again, too. “Impressive,” he said and Prime looked taken aback.

“Why?”

Megatron shook his helm, grinned wryly and replied, “Wait until you’ve been around Hook more. Shall we?”

Prime was still frowning ever-so-slightly, but he did take a good long look at the set before positioning himself in the right spot and hefting the Sun Saber up properly. Megatron twirled his own sword around, testing its balance, thankful that Breakdown always put effort into his work, even knowing it would at most survive four episodes. “First time without the lines or with?”

Prime’s new battlemask clicked shut. “Whichever you prefer.”

Megatron couldn’t help but reset his optics at the mech. That was the second time in almost as few kliks that he had been given this choice. It didn’t entirely fit with his expectations, nor did it tie in with his experiences of set etiquette. “Prime, you know that I’m technically the senior actor on this set?”

The deep voice sounded amused and one finial twitched. “I wasn’t aware Kaonian actors were aware of that custom.”

Megatron snorted. “Of course we are. We get a lot of your Academy drop-outs and graduates around these parts who positively _insist.”_

He did not add that if they did, Megatron had a habit of bulldozing past their complaints that they, as the younger ones, should be given the choice in order to familiarise them with their options. It was a nice custom, meant to help young actors overcome stage fright. Every Kaonian actor respected it, except when the Iaconians insisted. Sentinel, too, had had to learn that the hard way. It was a courtesy extended by the senior actor, not something the younger had any right to demand.

“Alright then. First go without and at half speed,” Prime said after another moment of deliberation and Megatron moved into his starting pose. Behind him, Soundwave’s speakers clicked on.

“Ready, set, go!”

Prime moved with grace, the Sun Saber coming down in a curve from above. Metal screeched and sparked as Megatron blocked high, turned underneath the crossed weapons, freed his sword and delivered a hefty push against Prime’s windshield with his elbow as he spun out of reach. Prime jumped back, Sun Saber coming at Megatron again in a low swipe he had to let get close before he brought his sword around just in time to prevent the Saber from crashing into his thigh. In a real fight, it would have been difficult to actually direct the Sun Saber away from his frame, since Megatron couldn’t exert much power from the low angle, but screen-fighting was tricky to choreograph. The cameras needed to be able to actually capture the movements, so trying to get an opponent down and out as quickly as possible wasn’t even on the agenda. Instead it was all about long, wide swipes at each other, at least with swords. Personally, Megatron considered screen-fighting more as a kind of dance than actual fighting. It was a show, not a fight.

Prime certainly was good at giving a show. He went through the pre-programmed motions with all the grace and agility of a mech half his size, frame moving with confidence. Megatron wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not. Sentinel, also a warframe, had had a habit of keeping his centre of gravity much lower, which slowed his moves in the more elaborate choreographies requiring a lot of pedework. Prime’s centre of gravity was more flexible, moving up and down as he danced around Megatron. Which, on the one servo, would make the fight that much more interesting to watch, and on the other servo meant that he could more easily lose control of the Saber. Not a problem when they were going at half speed, but definitely more dangerous once they really went at it. The Saber was maybe blunt, but it was still a piece of metal with an edge that could, if wielded (in)expertly enough, seriously injure Megatron.

With a clang that sounded disproportionately loud given the gentle force behind it, Megatron stumbled backwards, his sword slipping from his servo, and brought up his fusion cannon. “Orion Pax!” he roared, signalling the end of the sequence.

Prime stopped immediately, like a statue. Megatron was equally surprised and pleased; he did seem to have good motor control. Sentinel generally kept moving for another few nano-kliks after the signal, his momentum carrying him on.

Soundwave walked up, gesturing them to follow him. Prime lowered the Sun Saber and looked at Megatron, who nodded. “Soundwave has a recording, we can look at it if we want to,” he said by way of explanation, and Prime retracted his battlemask.

“Shouldn’t we wait until after the second run?”

Megatron shrugged. “We can, if you prefer.”

Prime appeared to consider. “How do you usually do it?”

Megatron stopped and eyed him. So did Soundwave, although Prime wouldn’t be able to tell that through the visor. Megatron knew because he knew Soundwave.

“There’s no set rule,” Megatron said slowly and Prime gave a nod.

“Let’s have a look, then.”

>>Is it just me, or is this Prime more courteous than Sentinel ever was before he became Prime?<< Knock Out commed to the open crew frequency and Megatron looked over to where both kibble designers had taken up residence beside the oil trolley.

>>He’s a weird one alright<< Breakdown confirmed, sipping from his cup as Soundwave hooked himself up to a screen. >>Very polite. Never met anything the like. Actually, first time I ever met an actor who didn’t complain about his kibble design when we first presented it.<<

Which was clearly a jab at Megatron, who didn’t need to see Knock Out grinning with pride at his apprentice to know he was. If he hadn’t been standing next to the Prime, he would have growled at Knock Out, but he had to restrict himself to a hidden rude gesture that had both kibble designers grinning and winking at him.

>>He’s a professional, other than the lot of you<< Starscream put in even as he strode towards the screen as well. >>And I personally find I very much enjoy working with him.<<

>>Did you see how he got Hook to leave the set? Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.<< Knock Out grinned.

>>Yes, well, how about we wait until the novelty of working with a real Prime has worn off?<< Megatron interjected, deliberately turning his back on the whole gossiping lot. >>Alternatively, until Prime gets to see Hook go up against Scrapper.<<

>>Speaking from experience, both during script-reading sessions and what little scenes he has shot until now, I can assure you he is a professional through and through<< Starscream broadcast haughtily and immediately continued, “Megatron, you need to work on that expression. You’re still wondering who that strange mech is who has appeared out of nowhere.”

“Starscream, it was the first dry run without even lines.” Megatron huffed an annoyed vent in his direction, taking his opportunity to let off some steam.

“That’s no reason not to try,” Starscream said, glaring at him.

Megatron growled. Prime was looking at them from the corner of his optics while ostensibly watching the recording Soundwave was playing on the screen.

“Starscream, Megatron, may I make a suggestion?”

They both turned, surprised and a bit thrown. Megatron wondered if Prime was going to say something about Megatron arguing with the director. Instead he pointed to the screen. “Soundwave, could you please play that back? I am thinking, Megatron, you aren’t getting much room there to work with your sword. Would it be an idea if I kicked you off while the swords are interlocked? To the lower abdomen? Then you would have more room to swing at me again.”

Megatron’s optic ridges climbed. So did Starscream’s. Soundwave, who had developed this choreography together with Megatron, remained silent.

“Why do you say that?” Starscream said cautiously and Prime met his gaze.

“I have noticed that in all the choreographies, there is very little use of pedes and legs as additional weapons. Which made sense considering so far all Orion Paxes have stood at smaller height than Megatronus, so they would have been at a disadvantage trying to throw him off-balance by destabilising their stance even for a moment. I, however, am as tall as Megatron, and would certainly not hesitate to throw him off-balance by using my legs.”

Starscream was smirking openly now, wiggling his optic ridges in a way Megatron knew meant _told you!_

He huffed. “Fine. Let’s give it a try. But don’t complain to me if you land on your aft.”

Prime gave another tiny smile. “Of course.”

* * *

By the time they returned to the kibble room to have their various accessories checked over before they started shooting, most of the crew on set had decided that they liked the Prime. Or at least his approach to fighting.

This was blatantly obvious in the way Knock Out complimented him, which appeared to disconcert the Iaconian, so Megatron did something about it.

“Knock Out, can you shut your intake for five kliks? Some of us are trying to concentrate!” he growled.

Knock Out promptly leant over Megatron and glared at him before smiling back at Prime. “Excuse his impudence, Prime, he’s just annoyed someone suggested a change to one of his fighting routines.”

Megatron growled and Knock Out smirked down at him. He couldn’t turn his helm to see how Prime reacted because of Knock Out fixing one of his horns, but he heard how he cleared his intake.

“I apologise if I offended -”

“You didn’t,” Megatron interrupted, annoyed at the courtesy and his new counterpart alike. “You’re a proper warframe, I’m an ex-miner, obviously you know more about fighting than I do.” Much as he hated to admit it, but streetfighting really didn’t compare to what they taught at the Military Academy. Pedes and legs were regularly in use in those fights, but didn’t generally get mixed in when weapons were in play. It was just too dangerous, and while the streetfighting was technically illegal as it was, accidentally offlining someone was definitely not something anyone wanted to happen.

A short pause, then Prime said, “I never completed the basic military training. I adapted an old routine we used in _The Three Fusion-Cannoneers.”_

Knock Out let out an impressed whistle. “Fight instructor for that one was Prowl, wasn’t it? He does good work, that one.”

“Indeed,” Prime agreed, but Megatron had a more pressing question that regardless of how he tried, he simply couldn’t hold back.

“What do you mean, you never completed military training? You’re a warframe.”

“I entered the Military Academy at the time when the military budget was already being cut rather drastically,” Prime said, sounding completely unconcerned. “We were all given the choice of free retraining if we decided to leave.”

Megatron would really have liked to look at him, but Knock Out was still fussing with those awful horns, and he knew from experience that if he interrupted his work, it might end up painful for him. Knock Out wasn’t exactly known for letting mecha walk out of his kibble room in anything but perfect condition.

“So what did you retrain as?” Breakdown asked, apparently as curious as Megatron, although presently busy with fixing tiny scratches in the dark blue coat of paint.

“A librarian at the Hall of Records,” Prime answered and they all stopped for a moment, taking that in.

“A librarian?” Knock Out repeated, and Megatron knew that look. It meant Knock Out was more than delighted to have all the gossip. Fragging kibble designers, they were all the same. Gossip and glossy paint.

“Yes.”

It somehow suited Prime, yet it didn’t. Megatron tried to glance at him from the corner of his optics.

“I never heard that before,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral, and then took his chance to shift his helm as Knock Out moved on to his shoulder pauldron so he could see Prime better. He looked back, Breakdown busy with a scratch on his windshield now.

“It is not public knowledge,” he said, then added, “And I would prefer it to stay that way.”

Knock Out frowned and Megatron had to bite back a grin. At least _this_ kibble designer knew when to keep his intake shut.

“How come the press never figured it out?” Breakdown, on the other servo …

Prime, however, appeared to be of the patient sort. “I did carry a different designation then, as you know, and my frametype isn’t all that uncommon. I do not believe my former colleagues ever thought I would go into the holovid business, and so it has never come up.“

Knock Out perked up again. “Really? A different designation? What was it?“

There was a sudden pause. Megatron almost stopped venting.

“Oh,” Prime said, expression calm, field a tad sheepish. “Did Alpha Trion not explain? I thought he had.”

“Explain what?” Megatron asked, trying for bored instead of dying-with-curiosity. Prime cleared his intake.

“I am the original Orion Pax.”

Megatron’s helm snapped around, banging the horn against the chair loudly, but fortunately, Knock Out was as surprised as he was, and didn’t hit him. “What?”

Prime checked whether Breakdown had stopped as well, then turned his helm to meet Megatron’s optics fully. “Orion Pax used to be my designation. Before I started at the Academy, Alpha Trion encouraged me to choose a different designation, something that consisted of one word only. He said it would help protect my privacy against the press, ease my way amongst those who would look down upon my former line of work.”

“And you chose Optimus,” Megatron said flatly, processor reeling. Prime looked a tad embarrassed now.

“No, that was his suggestion as well.”

Megatron felt his mouth twitch. “And was he already planning _Roll out, roll on!_ at the time, or did that come later?”

Prime squinted at him. “That was much later.”

Megatron let his helm thunk back onto the chair. Sly old glitch. “Did he at least ask for permission to use your old designation?”

“Of course he did.” Prime sounded almost insulted now. Megatron shook his helm. He wasn’t going to put any bets on Alpha Trion really having had the idea that much later. It sounded too much like something the old mech would do. Mind you, he probably didn’t mean anything ill by it, and it was most likely true that changing his designation had made things much easier for Optimus not-yet-Prime at the Academy. The snobs there would probably have looked down upon a warframe librarian-turned-actor, just like they looked down on Megatron for being an ex-miner. Or on someone like Bulkhead. If they couldn’t find anything about Prime’s past without exploiting a few illegal channels and he himself wasn’t going to talk much about his former job, then they would simply assume a warframe like him had served in the military and then decided on a different career when the military was slowly disbanded. Which, technically, was the case, only with a detour to the Hall of Records. And Prime did have the air of a commander. Megatron could just hear him giving instructions on the middle of a battlefield, that deep voice carrying far and wide without him having to raise it.

It was a shame Iacon didn’t do space operas. Prime would have made an excellent spaceship captain. Even with him being a grounder, Megatron could totally see him on the bridge of the _CSS Distant Skies_. Unfortunately, the Vosian space opera industry really wasn’t into having grounders in any position higher than a lieutenant, and that would be a waste of Prime’s talent. He would make a much better captain than Skywarp, not to speak of Thundercracker. Seriously, if Megatron didn’t know they had been Starscream’s trinemates since before all of them left the Vosian Air Squadron, he would have wondered who they had fragged for those roles.

Knock Out was indifferent to Megatron’s ruminations and star-struck, which was new. Usually he by-passed star-struck and went straight for lust (admittedly, the Iaconian guest-stars they got generally weren’t star-struck material anyway, only good-looking). “Primus, for real?” he squealed. “You’re the original Orion Pax? I never even knew there _was_ a real one!”

Prime’s mask snapped shut. “I’m sorry,” he immediately said to Breakdown, contrite. “I am still getting used to it.”

“I can’t believe Alpha Trion got the _real_ Orion Pax to play Orion Pax! That is so amazing! So, what, your altmode is a truck then as well? Alpha Trion has always wanted Pax’ altmode to be a truck, but we couldn’t afford bringing in the extra actor, what with all the scenes where he’s driving around town. I’d love to see it, if you don’t mind! Mech, I’m gonna make you look so good, you won’t believe it!”

Primus. Next he was going to ask Prime if he was a red spark like Orion Pax, too. And then probably tell him he had oilcakes and engex back home, and give him his private comm frequency for good measure.

What Megatron wouldn’t give for kibble designers who weren’t intent on seducing the whole cast before the season was over. Kibble designers like Breakdown. At least he kept his intentions to himself, although Megatron was fairly certain Breakdown probably had a devious long-term plan for catching Knock Out. His only hope at this point was that Breakdown would hurry up already and execute it.

However, first things first. Megatron huffed out a hot vent against Knock Out’s servos, making him flinch. “Knock Out, mind wiping those stars from your optics? We’re on a schedule!”

Knock Out glared for real this time. “Oh, like you knew he’s the real deal!”

“I didn’t, but I do know that Starscream is going to be very annoyed if we don’t get out there soon, because as far as I know, there’s another shot scheduled today with the sparkling.” Megatron returned the glare as well. Knock Out revved his engine.

“You have no appreciation for art!” he snapped and Megatron couldn’t help smirking.

“Funny, Hook said the same earlier.”

Knock Out grabbed one of his horns, pulling Megatron’s helm along with it. “Are you seriously comparing me to Mad-and-badly-polished?”

“Knock Out,” Breakdown interrupted. “Can you take over, I can’t seem to get this spot right.”

Prime’s optics above the mask widened a fraction as Knock Out let go of Megatron’s horn and hurried over, almost pushing his apprentice aside. “Of course! My pleasure! Just sit still, Prime!”

Blue optics locked on Megatron, transmitting something that could be interpreted as a silent plea for help.

Unfortunately, Megatron had vorns of experience with Knock Out. In literally every sense of the word. He was especially familiar with Knock Out’s ability to charm his way into almost every mech’s intimate panels.

He hesitated for a moment, then found the only public comm frequency in the room he didn’t already know.

>>Well, Prime, if you don’t fancy race-cars, I suggest calling Ultra Magnus for backup<< he sent. >>Because Primus knows no other mech can put a dampener on Knock Out’s … enthusiasm.<<

There was a moment of silence.

>>Am I going to need a kibble room bodyguard?<<

Megatron almost snorted with amusement at the dry tone of the message. >>If you want to give Knock Out another mech to seduce.<<

Another moment of silence.

>>I did not expect being the original Orion Pax would warrant such attention.<<

Megatron did huff out an amused vent now, meeting the blue optics again. >>Don’t worry too much, Prime. Knock Out is capable of understanding ‘no’. It’s more that most mecha don’t want to say no to him once he gets started on them.<<

>>Is that so.<< Prime looked rather doubtful, which really wasn’t quite fair on Knock Out. Frankly, this was the first time Megatron had seen him like this, too.

>>Well, he is good-looking … Too bad you’re the hero. Still, in a worst-case-scenario, you can always try calling Megatronus for help. He has a big sword, too, even if it’s not as impressive as the Sun Saber. And he is a tad possessive of Orion Pax<< he sent back.

Yet another pause, then an even drier reply.

>>Indeed. After all, what could possibly go wrong when asking my own worst enemy for help?<<

Megatron twisted his neck a fraction and threw Prime a smirk. >>Guess you’ll have to find out, Prime.<<

Fortunately for everyone on set, Megatron himself didn’t process just what he had sent until he was well on his way home.

He only just managed to avoid colliding with another jet.


	4. Prim-ary Concerns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, who woulda thought that I’d manage to get another chapter out this month! But here it is, so everyone, enjoy and feel free to leave comments if you like :-)
> 
> Also, please take note of the fact that the other chapter is not a proper chapter, but rather a few world-building notes I wrote and thought some would enjoy reading.

So everything was going well. They were shooting, Optimus Prime was being respectful and, from all Megatron could tell, not at all intent on parading his title, Knock Out was being his usual obnoxious self with a dash of hero worship thrown in, and Megatron had accidentally hit hard on Optimus Prime.

Primus. He still needed to manually shut off his fans when thinking about their comm conversation the day-cycle before. Not enough that Knock Out had seen fit to introduce Prime to the spike-jokes that came with Megatronus’ kibble, no, Megatron had to talk about big swords!

Which wasn’t a problem per se, it was only a problem because that wasn’t the impression he wanted to give Professional Prime of himself!

Fortunately, there was plenty of distraction to be had on set today, because Megatronus was getting down to scaring some aliens for a change. Megatron poked at the mesh again, jerking back when it gave and suppressing a shudder.

“Hook,” he said, engine rumbling. “You have outdone yourself. This is disgusting.”

Hook grinned at him, immensely pleased with what was not a compliment _at all._ “The sparklings’ll love them!”

Megatron took another good, long look at the meshy things, wondering how Hook had managed to keep it all together without any plating on the outside to make it, and said, “Provided they don’t purge fuel first.”

Hook kept grinning and Megatron admitted to himself that yes, that was going to count as success from Hook’s perspective as well.

Why oh why was he surrounded by these mecha.

“What do you call them again?” he asked instead and Long Haul looked up from where he was moving one of the frames, not that they could really be called that, via the remote control.

“Meshlings,” he said. “Well, homina, technically. That’s what they call themselves. Megatronus calls them meshlings.”

Megatron suppressed another shudder. “As disgusting as the designation.”

“That was the general idea,” Mixmaster agreed. “They’re the good ones, though. Some of them. They’re friends with Orion’s team.”

Megatron looked at the tiny things and raised an optic ridge. “So explain to me how Orion isn’t going to accidentally step on and squash them?”

There was a gleeful cackle all around, and then Long Haul said, “Ratchet already did. It was a mess!”

He sounded way too pleased with the destruction of an expensive prop. Hook waved a dismissive servo. “It doesn’t matter, we anticipated that. We have three copies of each.”

How comforting to know. Megatron resolved to rather throw a scene than risk stepping on one of those – things. It looked like it would take groons to pick the resulting mess out of his pedes. And how was he actually going to fight them? They looked like the gentlest slap would result in their internals splattered all over his servo. Gross! And also, Megatronus wasn’t actually supposed to deactivate them, but really, how was Megatron supposed not to with absolutely no plating protecting their mesh? It would be like fighting a mech consisting only of protoform!

Chatter announced the arrival of Team Pax sans leader (not the official term, but set nomenclature had a habit of cheerfully ignoring the official terms) and Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead stepped inside, adorned in their kibble. Megatron strode over, determined to be as professional as he could. “Morning.”

“Good morning!” Bumblebee chirped, leaning back to take a good look at Megatron. “Whoa, those horns are _huge!_ Do you even fit through doors?”

Arcee elbowed him, hissing a warning, but Megatron snorted. “As a matter of fact, no, and if you want to mention anything along those lines to Knock Out, I will certainly not mind.”

Arcee and Bulkhead gave him a doubtful look, but Bumblebee seemed delighted. “Oh, I can! Though, you know, they look great.”

Megatron suppressed an ex-vent. “So I am told. Frequently.”

“Optimus thinks they’re rad!” Bumblebee proclaimed, and Megatron was almost too stunned to notice the elbow Arcee buried in Bumblebee’s side at that. Bulkhead coughed nervously.

“Uhm, well, shall we go over the scene together, maybe?” he asked. Megatron reset his optics and decided to ignore Bumblebee’s statement in favour of Bulkhead’s question, because Optimus Prime was very much not something he wanted to think about right now. Team Pax had read the scene several times already under Starscream’s supervision, but if it helped Bulkhead overcome his circuitry flutters, why not. After all, Megatron hadn’t been present. Following the series’ traditional setup, Orion and Megatronus’ respective groups for the most part interacted during battle, which meant dry runs instead of script-reading sessions. Megatron had barely gotten to know several of their guest-stars owing to that fact (and, well, the fact that Orion hardly ever permitted any mech but Hatchet to stick with him for longer than three episodes. Aye, he was a bit of a brooding loner).

To be fair, after the first few vorns on the show, Megatron hadn’t really tried. Iaconian Academy graduates lost their appeal after a while, especially since he had to put up with Sentinel far too frequently.

“With or without the aliens?” he asked instead and Bulkhead sent a nervous glance at where Long Haul and Bonecrusher – oh, wonderful!

“Bonecrusher!” Megatron bellowed, spinning around and stomping over to where the two of them were having a prop fight. “Long Haul! What are you, sparklings? Stop this instant, you slag-heads!”

 _Why_ was he surrounded by these mecha? What had he done to deserve this fate?

“Come on, Megatron, they’re all squishy, it’s not like they’re gonna dent!” Long Haul cheerfully ignored him and smashed the prop he was controlling into Bonecrusher’s.

Megatron grabbed his neck and growled, “Take your servos off that control immediately or else!”

“Spoilsport.” Long Haul relinquished the control to Megatron and slinked off to sulk. Bonecrusher presented Megatron with an almost-convincing expression of hurt feelings and followed him, no doubt to find some hot oil and the energon cookies Ratbat had brought for today.

“Uhm,” Arcee said as Megatron growled at their retreating backs, “who’s going to control them now?”

“These are dry runs. We can make do without them for now,” Megatron replied, depositing the controls on the console in front of Soundwave, who was doing his last checks. Ravage, Rumble and Buzzsaw were on a different set today to provide extra staff, and Soundwave did not feature in any of today’s scenes, so he, Laserbeak and Frenzy had their servos full with making sure the equipment was in place. The studio could have bought several sound and camera drones, but Alpha Trion was of the conviction that the touch of a proper mech couldn’t be replaced, so no drones here. “Shall we?”

He did see the looks they exchanged, Arcee’s shrug, but chose to ignore it. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were beginners, it would be better if they first got a feeling for the set itself before they added the additional complication of small, not-to-be-accidentally-squashed props. And today was an indoor set, which restricted space that much more.

It was _meshling-sized._

Megatron promptly bumped his horns against the ceiling and equally promptly cursed them to the pit and back. That earnt him a glare from Arcee and a delighted expression from Bumblebee. Megatron had known he was young, he hadn’t quite anticipated he would be _that_ young. Or perhaps ‘sheltered’ was the better word; after all, the mech was already studying at the Academy. Perhaps something to keep in processor.

“Right,” Megatron grunted, because no, he did not want to hear any comments on his choice of language, “everyone in position. You’re all sitting down when I rip off the wall.”

Said wall constituted the fourth side of the set, and was currently still leaning against the studio wall, waiting for its ignoble demise at Megatronus’ servos.

They obligingly found their seats on the markings on the floor and looked up at him. Megatron frowned, looking at the door that led to the kibble room. “Starscream is still getting his kibble attached?”

“Something wasn’t working right with his null rays,” Arcee explained and Megatron sighed.

“Typical. Soundwave?”

Without even looking up, Soundwave shook his helm, but Laserbeak squeaked and flitted over. Megatron gave him a nod and turned to the other three. “So, we usually have one of the cameras film the dry runs and watch the clip together,” he stated and received nods. Bumblebee held up a servo, suddenly shy.

“Uhm, could we have some kind of prop to remind us where our aliens are?” he asked and Megatron gave short nod before turning around.

“Frenzy, get me three mesh pillows?”

“Sure thing, Megs!” Frenzy shot over to the chairs and promptly lobbed the requested pillows in Megatron’s direction, who was frowning at him even as he caught them and passed them on to the other three actors.

“Frenzy, how many times have I told you not to call me that?”

He was given a blinding smile. “Lost count at three thousand two hundred seventy-nine!”

Megatron barely refrained from grinding his denta. “Then why don’t you stop already?”

Frenzy sighed, a servo over his spark, even rolled his optics. “What can I say, Megs, I love it when you get angry at me! Your voice gets all growly and low, oh!” He gave an exaggerated shudder, his visor brightening in fake ecstasy.

Alright, that was _it._

“Soundwave! Get your glitch back in line, or I’ll do it!” Megatron bellowed over at Soundwave, who extended a cable without even turning around, grabbed Frenzy by the neck and dragged him over to the main editing controls. Frenzy, of course, cackled madly all the way there. Megatron glared at him, then turned to find his three new co-actors staring at him. “What?”

“You – have a pretty unique way of interaction on this set,” Arcee said carefully and Megatron scoffed.

“This is Kaon,” he said stiffly, because yes, maybe they did, but it wasn’t all that different on any of the other sets owned by Matrix Studios. With the exception of a few, everyone working here was a local or had, at the very least, lived in Kaon for a long time now, so Kaonian customs and the somewhat rougher tone dominated the atmosphere within the studios. Additionally, staff turnover at Matrix Studios wasn’t high, in part due to how Alpha Trion handled their contracts, and in part because they shot series. Pit, even their guest-stars were usually on three-stellar-cycle contracts and were simply handed back and forth between different series as extras were needed. There were a few mecha who had appeared in nearly half the RoRo-episodes, outfitted with different kibble and painted different colours to render them less recognisable. It was usually only the Iaconians who terminated their three-stellar-cycle contracts to seek their fortunes in the very differently run Iaconian holovid industry. Megatron himself had worked as an extra in literally every other series Matrix Studios had produced over the course of the last three vorns, not least due to the somewhat different shooting schedule for RoRo.

In other words, he knew almost every mech on the grounds, at least to the point of knowing they worked for Matrix Studios even if he didn’t know their designation. That brought with it a certain familiarity on set, which tended to irritate Iaconian guest-stars. The Vosian and Tarnian guest-stars, they were usually less bothered and more amused. It was, after all, an unwritten rule that guest-stars were not subjected to the constant bickering, bantering and teasing that went on between the permanent crew, at least not until they became incorporated into said permanent crew. Some, like Sentinel, never did.

They would find out soon enough whether the four new actors on RoRo would be included or just be treated as colleagues.

“Let’s get on with the dry runs,” Megatron said, retreating outside the set, carefully minding his horns. “Start with the last two lines of dialogue before Megatronus crashes the party.”

He received a nod from all three, Laserbeak swooped inside the set, and Arcee started speaking. “Are you sure it was him?”

Megatron was rather pleased to note that they really put their all even into the dry runs. Starscream finally appeared after the third, immediately started criticising Megatron’s performance, then ordered Long Haul and Mixmaster back to control the props, and after three groons, they had finally managed to produce a take that Starscream was satisfied with.

The set, of course, was utterly wrecked by this point, and really looking like Megatronus had thrown a temper tantrum inside, despite the Constructicons diligently putting it to rights after every take.

“Right, everyone, good work!” Starscream announced. “Team Pax, back to the kibble room, take a break, get yourself straightened out, but not too much!”

Megatron nodded at the somewhat exhausted trio. “Good work,” he said, too. “Take your time.”

Bulkhead and Bumblebee smiled tentatively (Megatron was used to that reaction, there were a lot of mecha who needed a time-out after having been confronted with the business end of Megatronus’ fusion cannon), but Arcee stopped. “Don’t you need to get straightened out as well? Your and Screamer’s scene?”

Megatron waved it off. “Soundwave can set my kibble to rights.”

“He is a mech in possession of an astonishing number of talents,” a deep voice said behind them, amused, and Megatron almost suffered a spark attack. Slowly he turned around, and of course, there was Optimus Prime, in full Orion-Pax-kibble and waiting to shoot his own scene inspecting the damage done to Pax Team’s temporary hide-out. The scene that was scheduled to take place _after_ Megatronus and Screamer had had their little post-attack spark-to-spark, which had been given a groon-long timeslot.

Megatron was going to be absolutely professional. No strange jokes, no unintentional double entendres, just sheer and utter politeness.

“Prime. You’re early.”

Alright, so Megatron maybe wasn’t exactly an expert at being professionally polite. In his defence, there wasn’t a single member of the permanent crew that Megatron hadn’t gotten ridiculously charged up on high-grade with on at least thirty different occasions. This was Kaon, for Primus’ sake! Politeness was for Iaconians. In these parts, mecha said what they thought.

Putting something of a filter between their processor and their voicebox would probably have prevented a fairly high number of fistfights, but eh, who cared about a dent or two? It was all in good humour. If you didn’t hit them for being a slag-head every now and then, you weren’t truly friends with them.

Whether Optimus Prime knew that or not, his optic ridge quirked up and he looked distinctly amused. “I was curious to see the props in action.”

Megatron looked at the somewhat worse-for-wear alien squishies Hook was already hauling back to the repair bench. “I thought you already had scenes with them?”

Optimus offered him a tiny smile. “None in which Megatronus was present.”

Well, that was certainly true. Megatron strode over, trying to look nonchalant. “And what is the verdict?”

Blue optics seemed to dance, although the expression stayed neutral. “That we should all be grateful they are only props and not actual sentient beings.”

Megatron couldn’t help but snort at the dry retort. Prime did have a good sense of humour. “They are very small.”

“Compared to our frames, indeed,” Prime agreed, watching as Megatron got himself some hot oil. “Bumblebee or Arcee, not so much. I have to admit I am somewhat wary of them as well.”

Megatron shuddered, glancing back at Hook, scowling at Long Haul. “They’re … very … meshy. I would prefer not to step on them.”

The smile grew. “Ratchet, I believe, will be able to provide you with excruciating detail on what exactly it feels like.”

Megatron grimaced. “I heard.”

Prime’s blue optics twinkled, and one finial twitched. “He is generally eloquent, but I have to admit, even I had never heard some of the words he used on the occasion.”

Oh, good. Megatron very much hoped that said words would occupy Prime’s processing to the extent that he forgot to analyse what exactly Megatron had commed him with the day-cycle before.

“You know Ratchet?” he asked therefore, carefully trying to steer the conversation into a direction that would not give him any more opportunities to put his pede in his intake.

“He was the military surgeon for my unit,” Prime said, another finial twitching. Megatron wondered if it hinted at amusement. “They would very much have liked to keep him, but he was quite insistent that he was sick of the military.”

Megatron nodded, trying to remember whether Ratchet had actually been online for the War, and found he couldn’t remember. By default of their respective roles, they didn’t see much of each other, which … was probably for the best. Ratchet really had a tendency to turn into a Hatchet once Megatron was around.

“And you stayed in touch?”

There was another small smile. “We did. How long have you known Soundwave?”

Now that was a good question.

“It feels like forever,” Megatron replied and the smile grew again.

“He is a very skilled editor, both visual and audio. Why has he never worked for any of the big studios?”

Megatron shrugged, wary. “He likes it here.”

“So do you, apparently. I heard you had several offers from other studios as well,” Prime remarked, tone just the right mixture of interest and polite. Megatron shrugged again.

“I’m not going to give up on a good job for the sake of an uncertain one. If I give up on being Megatronus, I can’t come back,” he said, even more on his guard now. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked that question, and Megatron had learnt to keep his true reasons close to spark until he knew more about the mech who asked. As far as Kaon, Vos and Tarn were concerned, there were many who agreed with Megatron, many who understood why he had chosen to remain at Matrix Studios despite the promises of riches and fame. Back when he had been younger, before RoRo became the phenomenon it was now, he had given in to temptation a few times, had worked for a few Iaconian and Tarnian studios as well as Matrix Studios. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that he would only ever have a career as the villain in either, and although the role he was most known for was Megatronus, at Matrix Studios he was at least frequently cast as something else when not working on RoRo.

And then all of the backstabbing, the spite, the contracts that seemed so great at first glance but always failed to deliver what they promised. Matrix Studios was so, so different, not only in that Alpha Trion gave every new series all of three seasons to see whether it succeeded or flopped instead of just one. Actors could apply for a habsuite in the studio-owned accommodation if they were hard up; as long as they were employed by the studio, they had free access to the studio-owned repair and check-up services; Alpha Trion had been almost delirious with joy when he had finally been able to open the on-grounds sparkling-care centre, the list just went on and on and on.

Of course, more challenging roles would have been nice. No, they would have been great. Megatronus, proud as Megatron was of his role, was at times as stifling as it was rewarding.

Prime nodded and offered, “The holovid industry is an uncertain career path.”

Which was as true as it was a platitude. Fortunately for Megatron, Starscream was obviously done with Soundwave and came striding over, his wings fluttering gently in excitement. “Sorry to interrupt, Prime -” he was so definitely not, “- but I believe Megatronus and I need to have a little chat with each other.”

Megatron snorted as he put his oil cup down. “More like ‘Megatronus has another dressing-down to deliver’,” he said and Starscream flicked a rude wing gesture at him.

“If you want to watch, Prime, why don’t you take a seat?”

Prime inclined his helm – really, calling the gesture ‘nodding’ seemed like an insult to the regal gravity of it – and looked at Megatron again.

“Thank you, Director Starscream, I shall join the others in the kibble room in a moment, though. Megatron, before I leave, I was wondering if you could perhaps spare the time to go over a few things with me concerning Orion Pax and Megatronus’ history?”

Megatron, already half turned away, stopped dead, reset his optics and caught Starscream’s wide optics. “If you believe it would help,” he said dubiously, torn between appearing professional and not wanting to spend more time alone with Prime. He knew himself, he was bound to say something stupid again. “I have a free slot tomorrow, we can meet in one of the conference rooms?”

Prime smiled again. “I was thinking maybe we could do this in a more informal setting?” Megatron’s HUD lit up with a notification from his public comm. An address. “I am generally free in the evenings, but sooner rather than later would be preferable.”

Under Starscream’s intense (and disbelieving) gaze, Megatron managed to stutter out, “Sure, tomorrow evening at twenty oh hundred?”

He caught another look at Prime’s smile before the battlemask snapped shut. “Thank you, I appreciate your help. Good day to you, then. Director Starscream, I will see you later.”

He strode off, leaving Megatron and Starscream staring at his back in stunned silence.

Then Starscream cleared his intake and said, “Megatron, did Optimus Prime just – invite you back to his place?”

Oh Primus. Oh _Primus_. Megatron was in so much trouble. That was not – Optimus Prime was infamous for keeping his private affairs so private as to be virtually unknown, but had Megatron – oh Primus. He _really_ shouldn’t have sent those comms. He had not meant to hit on the Prime, he wanted this to stay on a professional level, they were colleagues, provided Prime stayed on the show, they would spend vorns to come working together, and Megatron wasn’t at all opposed to flings, but it was very different when the mech you had a fling with was your main co-star and a Prime.

“For what it’s worth, Starscream,” he said after resetting his vocaliser several times, “I really hope he didn’t mean it that way.”

It was not at all reassuring that Starscream gave him the most disbelieving look in the history of Ever.

* * *

By the time Megatron had to leave for his appointment with Optimus Prime at the latter’s private apartment, he had worked his processor into a frenzy trying to calculate possible outcomes. Neither Starscream nor Soundwave were helping, since Soundwave immediately put his not-inconsiderable skills at scouring the grid for information about Optimus Prime’s past partners to work, and Starscream alternated between congratulating Megatron on landing a date with the Prime and moaning to his trinemates about what it would do to RoRo if Megatron and Prime broke up.

It almost went without saying that Thundercracker and Skywarp were both intensely amused and annoyed at it all and lost no time in conveying either sentiment to every occupant of their common area from their side of the feed in Vos.

“Optimus Prime is considered to be very professional, Megatron,” Thundercracker tried to tell him over the sounds of Skywarp yelling at Starscream that “they haven’t even fragged yet, so don’t envision their break-up before Megatron’s had a chance to prove his berth skills!”

Megatron wondered for the millionth time why Primus had seen fit to bestow these particular mecha as friends on Megatron. There had to be some horrible wrong-doing in his past, he was sure of it.

“I know that!” he snapped at Thundercracker. “Tell that to Starscream, he’s the one convinced that Prime will jump me the moment I step through the door!”

“Optimus Prime: not known to have any romantic entaglements. Rumours: pertain to Elita-1 and her conjunx endura,” Soundwave helpfully put in and Megatron groaned and rubbed his optics, predicting -

“What? Prime’s going to drag Megatron into a _trine relationship?”_ Starscream shrieked.

Yes, exactly that.

Megatron and Thundercracker chorused, “Grounders do _not_ have trine relationships!”

Starscream waved that off with a huff. “That’s what the Temple believes,” he said disdainfully, and well, Megatron had to give him that. The Temple couldn’t really say anything about flightframes forming trines, it was in their code and all, but Megatron as well doubted that there was an inherent obstacle that kept grounders from forming conjunx-endura-bonds between more than two mecha. It wasn’t broadcast, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. After all, forming a permanent sparkbond wasn’t done in public, and whether the mecha in question decided to have an official ceremony was another thing entirely. Megatron still doubted that “trine” was the applicable term – there were some aspects to trine formation that grounders simply were incapable of participating in –, but relationships that included more than two grounders? He didn’t see any reason why they would not exist, temple-approved or not.

In any case, it was still Megatron’s decision whether he let himself be drawn into any kind of relationship, whether that included two, three or any odd number of mecha.

“I am not going to frag Optimus Prime!” he announced in his most thundering, sonorous Megatronus-voice. “I am just going there to help him with his role!”

“Are your firewalls up-to-date?” Starscream asked, his wings fluttering too fast to catch the individual movements.

Megatron and Thundercracker groaned, Skywarp cackled in delight and Soundwave immediately offered a cable.

“I am leaving!” Megatron announced, trying to keep together the last shreds of his dignity. “And when I return, I expect you all to have put that stupid idea out of your processors!”

He stomped out onto the balcony, leaving them to their fluttering, and threw himself into the evening traffic. Prime’s address wasn’t far away, only ten kliks of flight in a straight line, and then Megatron landed on the top of a regular apartment building. Judging from Megatron’s experience with Kaon architecture, the apartments within would be neither luxurious nor dismal, just an average, comfortable standard, much like the one he and Soundwave owned and Starscream infested. He stepped inside the lift, punched the floor button and then had a few uncomfortable moments of wondering whether he should have brought something. Not high-grade, certainly, not engex either, that would give Prime a _completely_ wrong impression of where Megatron was expecting this visit to go, but Ratbat might have been able to advise him on which kind of energon goodies signalled a friendly, _not-at-all_ sexually charged, working relationship.

Too late now. Megatron ex-vented as he trudged along the quiet, brightly-lit corridor that led to the right apartment and pressed the doorbell before he could find a reason to turn tailpipe and make up an excuse to Prime.

It took less than a klik for the door to swish open. “Megatron, good evening. Thank you for coming. Would you like to come in?”

Megatron reset his optics, because that sounded almost like – like the Prime was flustered. “My pleasure,“ he replied stiffly as he stepped inside, following Prime into the small area that made up most of the apartment, resetting his optics again when he saw the room in front of him.

“I apologise for the lack of comfort,” were pretty much Prime’s first words when he turned around and saw Megatron looking about him in astonishment. Megatron hardly paid him any mind, though, because, well, this was a surprise. More than a surprise. Seriously, _this_ was how an Iacon-approved Prime lived? The most expensive items in the whole room were the datapads neatly stacked in two big shelves running along the walls. The room was nice and bright, comfortably spacious, with a big transparisteel-door leading onto what barely counted as a balcony (this was definitely a grounder apartment – Megatron, for all that he was used to cramped take-off spaces, would barely manage to take off from that), but other than the shelves, it only held one big armchair, two small tables and three big mesh cushions placed around the tables on the floor. Was that on purpose? It had to be, for if Prime had decided to move to Kaon for the duration of the season, preparations had started deca-cycles ago already and he had had to attend plenty of script-reading sessions. It also couldn’t be that it had taken him long to find the place – rented apartments of this kind were always on offer in Kaon. Megatron knew, he was familiar enough with the market. Frenzy and Rumble had a tendency to get kicked out by their landlords on a regular basis (something to do with noise complaints by the neighbours … They then more often than not ended up spending a deca-cycle on the floor of Soundwave’s room before they moved into their new place).

So all that empty space? It wasn’t exactly impersonal, there were a few knick-knacks around, three holos decorated the walls, each showing a different image capture of the nebula the apartment’s resident had been designated after, but it certainly was a vastly different sight to what Megatron was used to from his own and others’ apartments. After Starscream had permanently moved into the third room Megatron and Soundwave had been using as a kind of office, the office space had been moved to the common area, where Starscream had then proceeded to establish a huge vidscreen so he would be able to see his trinemates in full technicolour glory when he called them. Neither Megatron nor Soundwave had objected to that, because Starscream could slagging well contribute, too, considering he wasn’t paying any rent. Nevertheless, with the big vidscreen, the office desk and the shelves that held Megatron and Starscream’s datapads and Soundwave’s various bits and bobs, and the admittedly huge sofa, their common area was rather cramped. Nothing like the calm, serene room belonging to Optimus Prime.

“Please, do have a seat.” Prime’s voice sounded a little staticky and Megatron’s attention snapped back to his host as he realised with a jolt that he was being incredibly impolite.

“No! No, it’s – our own common area is much more messy,” he said hastily, fumbling for anything polite and complimentary that would assure Prime Megatron didn’t consider the room uncomfortable at all. “Are these all yours?” He wasn’t a collector himself, yet even he could tell that some of those datapads were quite valuable.

One finial twitched ever-so-slightly, and then Prime seemed to relax a little. He retracted the battlemask – when had that closed? Megatron knew it had been open when Prime opened the door – and smiled his tiny smile. “You can take the librarian out of the library, and all he will do is create a library for himself.”

Megatron took a step closer, then hesitated. The smile grew and Prime gave a nod, so Megatron went all the way and looked the collection over. It was diverse, to say the least. Myths and scientific treatises and scripts and sparkling stories shared the shelves in peaceful coexistence. And Megatron had been right – this collection, small as it may be, was priceless in some regards. “Is this the original script for _Pride & Predacons_ signed by Plane Coasting herself?”

His voice was almost a whisper. Prime tilted his helm to the side, smiling growing yet again. “It is.”

Megatron clamped down on the need to touch the datapad. “This must have cost a fortune.”

Prime cleared his intake, sounding a little embarrassed. “As a matter of fact, it was a gift. It came to me by way of Alpha Trion.”

Megatron turned around, optics round with disbelief. The battlemask snapped shut. “They knew each other when Alpha Trion was young. I had to promise him to keep this datapad safe for as long as I function. Uhm, the dedication is – private.”

Megatron’s optic ridges shot up. Prime gestured at the datapad. “Please, have a look for yourself. You’ll see what I mean. Also, would you like some energon?”

He gave a nod, then steeled himself to carefully extract the datapad from the shelf as Prime turned away to the small area that held the energon dispenser and a few shelves with the necessary items for fuel preparation. Megatron didn’t usually bother being particularly reverent with items others paid huge sums for and took pride in showing off, but scripts – scripts were somewhat of a weakness with him. He was too familiar with the changes necessitated by studio demands and, too often for his taste, the Temple, to not know the value of getting his servos on the original script of a play or holovid. And Plane Coasting just so happened to be one of his favourite scriptwriters. He had read numerous treatises on and lost more than one night-cycle of recharge discussing different drafts of her works with Starscream, and of course, he was familiar with the original script. He had simply never seen the datapad in question.

Nor had he known that it used to be in Alpha Trion’s possession and was now in Optimus Prime’s. All the copies cited the source datapad as being in ‘private ownership’.

Well, now he knew at least in whose private ownership it was. With a deep vent, he pulled the datapad out and turned it on.

His optic ridges shot up as his core temperature rose. “Uhm.”

“You see what I mean?” Prime stepped up to him, two cubes of energon in servo. Megatron forced himself to stay calm and keep his cooling fans from clicking on.

“Not what I think of first when I think of Alpha Trion,” he mumbled, wondering if the old mech would put a bounty on his helm if he ever got to know Prime had shown Megatron the very, _very_ intimate dedication Plane Coasting had scribbled on the second page.

Prime cleared his intake again. “I think very few of us would,” he said, then gestured to the armchair. “Please, do sit down. Oh, you can keep -”

But Megatron had already put the datapad back in its slot on the shelf. He would need some time to integrate that particular dedication with his view of Alpha Trion. Or forget about it. Preferably the latter. Primus, he possibly wouldn’t even tell Starscream about this. The look on his face would be priceless, but Megatron was too familiar with Starscream’s love of gossip to risk this getting around.

Thankfully, Prime didn’t comment on his haste to return the admired datapad to the shelf and simply set down the cubes on one of the small tables. By the looks of it, the energon was regular, if high-quality midgrade, and Megatron almost ex-vented in relief. No engex, no high-grade. Good. That was – good. Perhaps Optimus Prime had picked up on the fact that Megatron had not meant his comm the way it could be taken.

“Do you prefer energon cookies or rust sticks?”

“Rust sticks, thank you.” Megatron couldn’t help glancing at him as Prime returned to the fuel area and found a box of rust sticks on a shelf. For all that he seemed to be a fairly quiet, soft-spoken mech, Optimus Prime had a presence that was hard to ignore. Not oppressive, no, but _noticeable._ He radiated calm the way Hook and Starscream radiated nervous energy, and it was, frankly, a relief. Megatron was surrounded by high-strung mecha more often than not given his occupation, and it would have driven him to despair (and possibly mild violence) if Soundwave wasn’t around to help balance it out. Having a co-star who was similar in personality to Soundwave was a relief, especially after Sentinel’s frequent temper tantrums and snobbery.

So Megatron had no intention to frag this up. Literally. No matter how nicely the ceiling lights illuminated the blue highlights on Prime’s frame and made the red glow warmly.

He managed to direct his gaze to the balcony door before Prime turned around and caught him staring, and when he set the box on the table beside their energon cubes, Megatron finally realised that he was sitting in the only available chair.

“I’m sorry -” he started and Optimus Prime sat down on one of the big mesh cushions, raising questioning optics to Megatron, who stared, perplexed.

“Is this the only chair you own?” he blurted out, then had an intense urge to rip out his own voicebox.

The battlemask clicked shut.

“I rather like sitting on the floor,” Prime said, voice muffled by the metal, then retracted it and ex-vented audibly. “My apologies. I am still getting used to it.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge. Hadn’t he heard that line before?

“Unless it disturbs you? I have another chair in my berthroom I could fetch.”

“No, no,” Megatron said hastily. “I wouldn’t want to take your chair, but if you are comfortable …”

A tiny smile. “Thank you, I am.”

Silence.

Awkward silence.

Megatron broke it by reaching for his cube and saying, “So, you had questions about Orion Pax?”

Prime immediately took the in. “Yes and no. Yes, I have questions about Orion Pax, but they are questions concerning his shared history with Megatronus.”

Megatron nodded to show he was listening, beginning to feel safer. It did actually make sense for Prime to ask Megatron about this, because Megatronus and Orion Pax shared not only a sparklinghood, but even a tragic infatuation who had offlined long, long ago. Said history had been alluded to several times over the course of the series and influenced several storylines, but even so, it was a bit of a jumbled mess. Soundwave made valiant efforts to keep track of the continuity and opposed the more blatant contradictions, but Cliffjumper and Tailgate were nothing if not creative, and Alpha Trion, for his part, also had a habit of preferring a good story over a plausible continuity. Megatron had learnt to roll with and make the best of their stranger ideas.

“Go ahead, then,” he said, choosing a rust stick and nibbling on it as Prime launched into a detailed explanation of what he knew about the two characters and how he interpreted their interactions. Megatron, to be honest, was impressed. Obviously he himself had spent quite a bit of time on figuring out Megatronus and Orion Pax’ motivations, but he had been on the series for vorns. Prime had just started. The first episode with him hadn’t even aired yet.

Megatron narrowed his optics. “You are very familiar with the series,” he said and Prime offered him that tiny smile again. Megatron was beginning to rather like it. The blue optics started twinkling rather mischievously when it appeared.

“One of the main characters carries my old designation. I may have been keeping an optic on how it is doing. I’m sure you understand – the other, after all, carries your designation. You have the advantage of getting to play said character yourself, though.”

Megatron felt his core temperature rise by half a degree at the implication that Prime had therefore, by default, also watched Megatron’s performance as Megatronus for several vorns even as he wondered how he would like watching Sentinel playing someone with his designation. “Yes, well, that was Alpha Trion’s idea.”

“Yes, I know.”

Right, he had to ask. Not about Prime’s opinion on Sentinel’s interpretation of Orion Pax, obviously, since he had no idea whether the two of them knew each other, but still. Because, flattering as it might be, it was also just a tad strange. “Do you watch many sparkling series?”

Prime smiled once more and gestured at the shelf. “I believe it is safe to say that Alpha Trion and I share a love for sparklings, so yes, I do follow several when I have the time.”

That was interesting and disappointing at the same time. Megatron took another sip, considering his next question. Of couse, they were here to talk about their characters; still, they had time. Neither of them had to be at the studio early tomorrow, Megatron had checked the schedule.

“Out of curiosity, what are your thoughts on giving Orion Pax a permanent team?”

Prime looked thoughtful for a moment. “I was surprised, to be honest, when Alpha Trion told me. Orion is a bit of a loner, and the main reason he accepts Hatchet by is side is because Hatchet has been his confidante since his sparkling cycles. I have already had extensive discussions with Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee about their interactions with Orion. I do believe it will be difficult for him at first to work with a permanent team. He is not the type to trust easily, not after his disappointments with Megatronus.”

Megatron hummed, quietly agreeing. It had always been a source of amusement to him that Orion Pax as the hero of the series was quick to discard his new acquaintances, while Megatronus was surrounded by his subordinates almost all the time. Granted, he didn’t necessarily treat said subordinates well, but Megatron for his share had worked with directors who were bigger slag-heads than Megatronus.

“What about introducing aliens as part of said team? Does it make it easier or more difficult on him that they are a different species?” he said and Prime took an even longer moment to consider his answer.

“I am as of yet unsure what to think about that,” he admitted then, even offering a small shrug. “Part of the problem is that I cannot talk to the actors of the aliens in question. They are props, and I suspect none of the Constructicons have spent much time considering the personalities of their props.”

Megatron thought back to the prop fight two solar cycles before and said dryly, “I believe Hook cares more about shock value than personality, and as far as the rest of them are concerned, well … There are reasons why they build sets instead of acting.”

Prime’s gaze seemed to sharpen at that, although Megatron could not discern any reason why. “Their voices will be provided by Soundwave, Rumble and Frenzy, if I recall correctly?”

Megatron nodded and Prime returned to looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I should talk to them, then.”

Megatron shrugged. “You can try to, but it will be Starscream and whoever else is hired as director who will get to make most of the decisions on the aliens. Soundwave is good enough to make their voices express any emotions they want them to express, and he will certainly offer some input if Starscream lets him, but as to whether he will try to give each alien a distinct personality, I’m not sure. If you ask me, they’re likely going to end up pretty shallow, more types than proper personalities. I’m not really sure why Alpha Trion insisted on partnering each of the Terran mecha with an alien, either. It would have made things much easier if they didn’t get quite that much screentime.”

“I believe Alpha Trion was trying to introduce some depth to alien characters in general,” Prime said. “Considering that the Tarnian holovid approach generally is that aliens are set on destroying Cybertron.”

Megatron cocked his helm to the side. “Considering Tarn generally casts the Quintessons, or some alien race bearing suspicious resemblance to Quintessons, as aliens, does that really surprise you? As a warframe?” After all, that was what Tarn did – action holovids. With a huge population of ex-military mecha, it was easy enough to find the extras for extensive battle scenes. They didn’t even need to train them all that much, just kit them out with non-lethal weaponry.

“It does not,” Prime admitted. “The Quintessons did wreak horrible destruction upon Cybertron. I cannot help but wonder, however, if there were aliens other than the Quintessons out there, would they be the same? Vosian space opera has a very different approach, and I must admit I prefer that, although the aliens are still adversaries more often than not.”

Megatron snorted and gestured. “Not sure if you noticed, Prime, but we don’t exactly function in a perfect society, either. Mecha just have certain expectations of how things work. Or why else do you think working frames like me almost always get cast as the villains?”

Prime inclined his helm, finials dipping a little. “There are a lot of issues with how our society functions,” he agreed and Megatron reset his optics in surprise. “However, there is no telling how an alien society would function. All of our experience is based on the Quintessons. Would it not be rash, if we encountered another alien culture, to assume that they must have our destruction in mind?”

Megatron shrugged, carefully trying to conceal how much Prime had surprised him with that admission. He hadn’t met many Iaconians who would listen to criticism of their society without trying to rebut it, and even fewer who agreed. “I think we can be pretty certain that whatever we can imagine in terms of cruelty and depravity, there will be someone to exceed our expectations. It might not be the alien society itself, but what would the society back on their planet know or care about some renegade starship captains running riot?”

Prime gave him the tiny smile that Megatron now suspected was the extent of expression he permitted himself to show in private. It was amazing, really, that a mech who commanded such a wide range of expressions would choose to remain almost expressionless when not on stage or in front of a camera lens. It got Megatron wondering why exactly Prime had picked up that habit.

“Now you sound exactly like Mechtacus.”

Megatron reset his optics. “Sorry?”

“Mechtacus. From _Gladiator.”_

Megatron reset his optics again. “I didn’t know anyone still remembered that one.”

“I’ve watched every one of your holovids.”

Megatron barely had time to run a quick check to make sure his audio receptors were functioning properly before a mask clicked shut. He looked at Prime, dumbfounded. He had stiffened where he sat on his mesh pillow, but with the mask closed, Megatron could not even guess at what he was thinking. He did find himself suddenly immensely grateful he had never gone into the adult holovid industry, though, and cleared his intake.

“I didn’t take you for the type to watch dystopian holovids.” Because there was most definitely a reason Iacon didn’t do dystopian holovids. They were considered demoralising, and _Gladiator_ especially had received enormous backlash for depicting mecha as the slavers and slaveowners. Cybertronians did not keep others of their kind as slaves, one of the incensed critics had written. Megatron had his own opinions on that, but he wasn’t going to get into that debate with Prime. Even if he had agreed with Megatron earlier, he barely knew the mech, and while Megatron’s views weren’t illegal, per se, he was well aware that they weren’t popular in most other cities except Kaon, Vos and Polyhex, and definitely not in Iacon. Kaon’s predominantly heavy-duty-frametype population took pride in the kind of work they did, dirty as it might be, and deeply resented implications that it made them somewhat lesser – something many Iaconians were more-or-less secretly convinced of. Vos was a city full of flightframes, and just like Starscream, they were proud and independent and resented Iacon simply on the basis of not wanting to be told what to do and what to think by grounders – even if they agreed in principle.

And Polyhex, well, they were – Polyhexians. There really wasn’t any way to explain what was going on with them, other than that they were as crazy as they were creative, and strongly inclined to contradict Iacon and the Temple wherever possible, and prophesy doom and gloom every time an important decision was made in the Senate or by the Council.

The respective cities’ holovid industries mirrored their populations rather accurately, if Megatron was to be honest. Although he had never been quite certain what to make of the fact that Kaon had exactly two holovid studios catering to very different audiences. Matrix Studios, of course, was a dedicated sparkling holovid studio. The other studio, to phrase it delicately, was aimed at their creators’ late-night-cycle-entertainments.

Prime retracted the mask, making a weird gesture. “I am still getting used to it,” he said, sounding almost sheepish at having to say it yet again. “I find watching dystopian holovids, well, certainly not relaxing, but enlightening. _Gladiator_ was an immense achievement that broke with so many traditions, and given its low budget, it was masterfully executed, not to mention very well-cast.”

Megatron tried very hard not to gawk. _Gladiator_ was one of seven feature-length holovids he had ever managed to star in, the only one in which he had been given the lead, shooting it had proved to be quite detrimental to his career, and now _Optimus Prime_ was telling him he appreciated that holovid?

Something had to be wrong with his reality matrix. His or the Prime’s, he wasn’t quite sure which at present.

“Enlightening,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Prime nodded.

“Like you said, if we can think of it, someone might actually do it. Dystopian holovids provide an outlook on what could happen if we are not careful as a society and shed light on where some paths might lead us.”

Megatron reset his optics, _again._ “That – is an interesting take,” he said carefully, because that was exactly what he thought. Prime’s optics searched his face.

“You do not agree?”

Megatron shrugged. “I found out in the aftermath that starring in dystopian holovids is a sure-fire way to end one’s career.”

Prime ex-vented softly. “It is unfortunate that they are only shot in Polyhex. Their holovid industry is so unstable.”

“That’s because all of the geeks and nerds live in Polyhex.” Megatron almost grinned, glad at the opportunity to return to safer ground. “They’re creative, I’ll give them that, but they’ve got no sense for business at all. Most of them can’t even manage to keep their studios going for a vorn, naturally that puts quite a crimp into the production of new holovids.”

“All the more reason to hire their scriptwriters.” Prime ex-vented again, then gave him another tiny smile. “My apologies. I am sure you did not come here to listen to my complaints about playing the same part over and over again, only for a different studio.”

Megatron perked up, because, no, he hadn’t, but he certainly wasn’t going to pass up on that opportunity. Maybe here was a chance to find out why a Prime would choose to accept a role in a sparkling series shot in a Kaonian studio, even if the role was based on him. “You don’t like working with the Iaconian studios?” he asked, trying to sound casual, and Prime gave a small shrug.

“I have found working there to be increasingly – stifling in recent stellar cycles.”

Megatron looked at him hard, trying to judge how honest he was being while at the same time cursing the fact that he was talking to a Prime. A mech first and foremost distinguished by and awarded his title for his acting abilities. “Are you getting bored with getting to play our revered ancients?”

Prime gave him that small smile again. “Not that, necessarily. If you were to ask me, though, it does not present much of a challenge to play The Arisen again when you have already played him seventeen times. I am also doubtful whether it is really necessary to spend so many resources on yet another version of the _Song of Solus_ given that we already have 134, and that is only counting the feature-length holovids. So yes, maybe I do think that the Iaconian industry could do with a bit of fresh wind, or at least with a few new re-interpretations of our most popular plays.”

“In the form of Polyhexian scriptwriters?” Megatron inquired, raising an optic ridge for good measure and Prime shuffled himself so he was facing Megatron directly, his optics open and earnest.

“The morale of a story doesn’t necessarily change just because it is enacted in a different way or by different characters. I’m sure you know as well as I do that several of the Polyhexian productions are very creative re-imaginings of our oldest stories. Moreover, Shakespark was originally Polyhexian and most of his plays refer to locations in Polyhex, yet these days nobody would choose Polyhex as a location, unless they were shooting a remake of _Shakespark in Love_. We shoot holovids and stage plays for mecha to use as a means of helping them reflect on their own circumstances and actions, have done so since the first Cybertronians began re-enacting the original Primes’ stories, and yet it is the Iaconian studies who are consistently given the rights to produce them, most of them are shot in Iacon, and they almost exclusively star Iaconian actors. How are mecha from Vos or Kaon supposed to identify with them? They aren’t even the same frametypes,” he argued. “Besides, it is not conducive to divide different branches of the holovid industry that sharply not only by studio, but even by city, not to mention that we are losing talented actors and scriptwriters that way, and all end up the worse for it. Just imagine what _Gladiator_ would have looked like if you had been given a Tarnian budget for it.”

It would have been _epic._ Megatron knew, because he had seen the original set designs. The huge pit in which the fights took place would easily have consumed their whole budget, though, so they had had to make do with a considerably smaller coliseum. It was there that Megatron had met Scrapper, Long Haul and Mixmaster for the first time.

“That would have been amazing,” he replied. “The critics would still have hated it, though.”

Prime tilted his head to the side. “The critics hate anything the Temple disapproves of on principle.”

Megatron’s optic ridges shot up. “Aren’t you a Prime?”

Blue optics returned his look calmly. “And that renders me unable to have taste?”

Megatron couldn’t help the snort, although his emotional co-processor pinged him with a query, asking whether he would like that last statement labelled as ‘compliment’ or not. He resolutely decided on ‘no’ and instead settled for interpreting it as another example of the dry humour Optimus Prime appeared to possess. “It is rarely good for one’s career if one is found to insult those that pay the bills.”

Prime ex-vented again. “All the shanix on Cybertron do not make up for the lack of a real challenge,” he replied. “I envy you for having been part of a project like _Gladiator._ The closest I have come to anything the like was when I accepted parts in a Tarnian production.”

“So you thought you would try the sparkling holovid industry now to find yourself a challenge?”

Optimus Prime was turning out to be less and less like Megatron expected with every sentence that left his voicebox. Sentinel had always scoffed at any production that was not Iaconian in origin, and openly derided scriptwriters for not comparing to the Temple-approved ones. As he had lost no opportunity to remind everyone else on the crew that, unlike them, he was Iacon-trained. He, of course, had only accepted the role of Orion Pax because Alpha Trion had _pleaded_ with Sentinel to bring some much-needed Iaconian expertise to the series, which he liberally distributed whether anyone asked for it or not.

Megatron knew that to be an outright lie. Sentinel, like many Iaconian Academy graduates, had failed time after time at landing a role in any of their holovids, and resorted to working for Matrix Studios to keep himself fed and housed. And the reason Matrix Studios employed Iaconians at all was that Alpha Trion was trying to balance out the ratios.

He wondered whether Prime knew. He did seem to know Alpha Trion rather well, if that datapad was any indication. You didn’t just give something that personal to any odd mech and hoped for the best. Maybe that was part of the reason why Optimus Prime had agreed to playing Orion Pax? Because honestly, the role itself was below his skills.

It was strange, Alpha Trion had never before mentioned being personally acquainted with Optimus Prime. It sent a bit of a jolt through Megatron. Of course, Alpha Trion and he were by no means intimate friends, but still? Now, however, was not the time to be pondering Alpha Trion’s reasons. Instead, Megatron contemplated the mech opposite him. “What kind of challenge do you believe you will find in a character like Orion Pax?”

Prime offered him another smile along with a tilt of his helm. “If nothing else, there is the challenge of having to adapt to a very different studio with very different customs, and working with actors who aren’t Iacon-trained. But to answer your question, I do not agree with the popular opinion that because the audience consists of sparklings, sparkling holovids are less engaging or thought-provoking than those for grown mecha.”

Megatron couldn’t help chuckling. “That is very definitely Alpha Trion.”

Prime inclined his helm. “He and I have always agreed on a lot of things. Amongst others, that sparklings are by no means as limited in their understanding of the world as many grown mecha assume.”

Megatron made a hum and took another sip of energon, scrutinising the mech opposite him. His processor was whirling, questions popping up with alarming speed, and he had no intention of actually asking half of them. Optimus Prime met his optics calmly, helm still tilted slightly to the side. “Do you not agree with that either?”

Megatron set the cube down. “I would say that RoRo is hardly the most thought-provoking series out there,” he said and Prime’s optics flashed for a moment.

“Do you? Certainly there could be more time given to reflection of the characters’ actions rather than the fighting, but the topics the series deals with are by no means shallow. You cannot tell me that after so many vorns working on it, you haven’t figured out that several of the episodes have quite a chilling morale or lesson to teach, and that there are so many references to contemporary Cybertronian politics and events as to make one wonder how Alpha Trion has not yet ended up in trouble for it.”

Megatron tilted his helm to the side as well, keeping himself very still otherwise. Of course he knew, but he also knew how many mecha even amongst their grown audience had never connected the dots, never found anything more to ponder in each episode than whether they had liked the fight. “Is there any particular episode you are thinking about?”

“ _The quality of mercy,”_ Prime answered without hesitation, his optics holding Megatron’s. “How could one miss it? It was aired when the debates in the Senate about whether capital punishment should be abolished were at their most fervent.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge. “The whole episode centred around Orion Pax having a chance to finally end Megatronus once and for all, and deciding against it for sentimental reasons. And obviously, the episode aired in the middle of a season, so offlining Megatronus was not an option. You cannot offline the main villain while the season is still running.”

“No,” Prime said, voice firm and decided. “The whole episode centred around Orion Pax holding onto the hope that Megatronus is redeemable and winning a battle against his own desire for revenge, instead acknowledging that he has no right to decide whether another mech should function or offline. Airing the episode in the middle of the season simply provided Alpha Trion with a very good defence against accusations of being political, and making it about the conflict between two mecha instead of the rules of a whole society further deflected suspicions. The basic question remains the same, though: Who has the right to decide who may function and who does not, and by what should said decision be guided.”

They looked at each other in silence until Megatron inclined his helm, smiling. He hoped there was no visible indication of how fast his spark was spinning in his chassis. “Very well, Optimus Prime, you have uncovered our dirty little secret. RoRo is political and Alpha Trion is attempting to encourage sparklings to ask questions through it.”

Prime looked amused. “It is hardly a secret. It is out there in the open for everyone to see. They simply do not know how to look.”

“That is what we have the Iaconian holovids for, after all, isn’t it? To provide us with grounds for debate, to lecture us and educate us and to make us reflect on our own stance and behaviour. That is why they have a monopoly on our most revered plays.”

“Iacon does not, and neither should it, have a monopoly on providing the whole planet with topics for discussion.”

The deep, gentle voice held an edge of steel, those blue optics were hypnotic and the way Prime was sitting on his mesh pillow drew attention to all that shiny plating and his long, long legs. Megatron had always had a weakness for mecha with a quick processor, probably the main reason why he and Starscream got along so well despite all their clashing personality traits. It was the one thing that Megatron had learnt could not be pretended at for long. A mech acting the part of an intellectual would always give themselves away sooner rather than later.

Prime was an excellent actor, there was no doubt about that, but he was not repeating something he had picked up somewhere in conversation or on the grid. Even amongst those working on the series, there were few who put two and two together by themselves. Sentinel hadn’t realised what was going on, and only petitioned with Alpha Trion not to use a Shakespark quote as that particular episode’s title. Of course, it helped that not every episode had such a serious background. Nevertheless, there were plenty of topics the series had touched upon which, when examined closer, opened the door for intense political and/or ethical debates.

Ignoring his own slight attraction to Optimus Prime had just become that much more difficult for Megatron, and yet, he could only regret his discovery with half his processor. The other half was busy wondering if they could perhaps meet up again, do this again, discuss their characters, discuss the series, pick single episodes apart, talk about other scripts, maybe even return to Prime’s statements about the holovid industry in general and his apparent dissatisfaction with it. Between Starscream and Soundwave and occasionally Alpha Trion, Megatron didn’t exactly lack for conversation partners, but – this was a Prime! A Prime openly complaining about the way the industry operated. True, his complaints were mostly aimed at a lack of challenge and the loss of talent, yet there was potential here. If Megatron could find the right way of using it.

Just as his processor was busy informing him that it was going to attach a whole slew of new labels to Optimus Prime’s designation and trying to find an appropriate reply to that last statement, there was a sound in another part of the apartment, something that sounded very much like metal giving under pressure, and then Prime shot up, optics spiralling open in alarm, and disappeared through a door into what was likely the berthroom.

And then all Megatron heard was a distinctly unhappy, “Oh, _no!”_

* * *

Megatron gave himself a whole klik before he got up and walked over to the now open door, in which he hesitated. This might not be Iacon, but even Kaonians had opinions about entering berthrooms without explicit invitations. “Prime?” he called, fixing his gaze on the open door to the washrack instead of glancing around. “Everything alright?”

The warframe appeared in the door, looking annoyed and – drenched in solvent.

Megatron reset his optics.

“No,” Prime said in an ex-vent, “unfortunately not. Megatron, do forgive me, but I’m afraid I will have to cut this short. I need to fix this.”

Megatron remained where he was. “So what has happened? Did the pipe break?”

Prime inclined his helm. “Yes, and close to the floor as well.” He ex-vented again, rubbed his face and muttered, “At least it won’t flood the apartment.”

Megatron still made no move to retreat. “I could take a look, if you want?”

Prime left off his face and looked surprised. “You know how to fix washracks?”

Megatron grunted. “I’m an ex-miner, Prime, I have some experience with piping. Do you have some basic tools around here? And sealant foam would be good, probably.”

“I really would not want to impose -” Prime started and Megatron grit his denta. He wasn’t happy having to admit this, he was a Kaonian through and through and understood where the proprietor was coming from, but still.

“Your proprietor is not gonna fix this up anytime soon. Not if it isn’t an emergency,” he said shortly. “He’s gonna repair everything else in this building before he gets to you.”

Prime looked even more confused. “Why?”

Megatron let out an irritated vent. “You’re from Iacon, and you’re rich. And yet you chose to rent an apartment in a building like this, so the proprietor is going to make pit-sure you get the same service every other mech living in here gets.”

A klik went by while Megatron half-glared at Prime, whose expression had turned blank.

“I was not aware I was offending,” he finally said, choosing his words carefully. “I have no taste for high-end luxuries, and I have better uses for my shanix than an unimpeded view which I will not be able to enjoy anyway.”

Who would have thought there were Primes around in possession of a quick processor and a good amount of common sense and humility (and frankly amazing legs and a very pleasant smile, tiny as it might be).

“We can discuss this at another time,” Megatron said, deciding that he would really need to give his new co-star a bit of a helms-up about Kaonian rules for social interaction, and ignoring his processor helpfully flagging up files showing Prime drenched not only in solvent, but also covered in foam in the studio washracks. “May I?”

Prime reset his optics at him, then realised Megatron was still hovering just outside the berthroom, and offered him another tiny smile that made Megatron’s tanks lurch. “Please, do come in.”

As he stepped through, Megatron decided to make it one of his first priorities to not let Starscream know that he had actually been inside Prime’s berthroom, even for such an innocent reason.

Ever.

* * *

As per universal rule, the events one wants to keep secret most have an utterly annoying habit of getting around the fastest, and two solar cycles later, Megatron was reminded once more that while he might know better than to relate the incident, Prime did not.

He was also reminded that gossip was an ever-present commodity on holovid sets and that Starscream was not the only one on the crew who would jump to conclusions about Prime’s invitation. Or Megatron’s reasons to accept it, in this case. As he joined Prime and Ratchet to fetch himself a cup of hot oil before he returned to the kibble room, Prime smiled at him and said, “The proprietor came this morning to have a look and was very impressed by the skilled emergency fix.”

His optics were dancing, sharing the joke, and Megatron raised an optic ridge. “I hope you stuck to your instructions.”

“I did indeed, and he has promised to have it fixed by the time I get home today. Thank you very much for your help, Megatron.”

Megatron would have been lying if he denied that his plating puffed out just a little at that. “Told you mecha around these parts take you more seriously if they know you can fend for yourself.”

“Megatron!” Starscream screeched before Prime could reply, and Megatron huffed. “See you later.”

He was barely three steps away when Ratchet turned on Prime and hissed, “What is going on, Optimus?”

“Megatron fixed my washrack when he visited me two solar cycles ago,” Prime replied, blissfully unaware of what he was setting off and without giving Megatron a chance to stop him in time. Even as he jolted and made half a turn to prevent a catastrophe, his processor presented him with the resigned conclusion that now the words had been uttered, Ratchet would not stop before he knew the whole story and then, well. Megatron was going to be as far away as he could get under the circumstances when it hit, because other than Prime, Megatron knew what he had just set off. Megatron and Ratchet had known each other for a long time, too, and disliked each other for almost as long. Ratchet had two great loves in his life: Medicine and acting. Fortunately for him, Alpha Trion was quite happy to indulge him in either. As a result, Ratchet got to work in the studio-owned medical centre _and_ play Hatchet on a regular basis. Either put him in immediate contact with Megatron, whom he hated with a passion, which might have had a great deal to do with Megatron’s in retrospect not-so-great idea to hook up with Ratchet’s medic colleague First Aid. And a few of their guest-stars.

Alright, more than a few of their guest-stars.

Alright, _a lot_ of their guest-stars, and in quick succession. At least until he grew older and bored with it.

Ratchet, unfortunately, had opinions on this kind of behaviour (more precisely, this kind of behaviour when exhibited by Megatron; he seemed to be much less disturbed by Knock Out doing much the same) and some sort of misguided creator-complex that made him take younger actors under his doorwing and had ultimately led to him sharing a lot of his knowledge with Sentinel and then being bitterly disappointed when Sentinel immediately forgot about him after being made Prime.

At this stage, Sentinel was probably the only mech Ratchet hated more than Megatron.

So of course he was not pleased with hearing about Megatron’s – completely professional, not-at-all clandestine and definitely not date-like – visit to Prime’s apartment. During which Megatron had entered Prime’s berthroom and fixed Prime’s washrack in a completely professional manner and then instructed Prime in an equally professional manner on how to get his landlord to prioritise his problem, because Prime was a colleague and a newcomer to Kaon, and Megatron was trying to be friendly and helpful in a collegial way. Ill-advised comm messages notwithstanding, Megatron was still intending to maintain a friendly, professional relationship with Optimus Prime, because while Megatron might have fooled around a bit (a lot) when he was younger, he was older now and Prime was a colleague to be respected and not someone to be taken to berth at the first opportunity. Even if he had a quick processor and possibly the longest legs Megatron had ever seen on a mech, and was a joy to talk to. And if Megatron had maybe spent a klik or two on imagining Prime in his own washrack the way he had looked when Megatron walked in on him in the studio washracks, well, that was just a coping mechanism to deal with knowing what Prime looked like drenched in solvent and with soap all over him. One Megatron was not going to act upon, because despite Ratchet’s suspicions, Megatron knew how to rein himself in and anyway, that was not what Prime had invited him for.

Which was totally also why he had not mentioned the washrack part of his visit to Soundwave or Starscream after his return, because they would be jumping to conclusions, and once Starscream jumped to a conclusion, Knock Out would be next to know, and once Knock Out knew, the entirety of Matrix Studios would know within a groon.

Although given Ratchet’s reaction, there would possibly not even be a need for Starscream and Knock Out to employ their astonishing gossip-spreading abilities. Megatron could hear him even where he stood beside Starscream and looked at the screens trying to decide which angle worked better.

“Optimus, have you malfunctioned? Why would you invite Megatron to your place? That’s practically an invitation!”

Prime’s deep voice was less loud, but oh, it carried. “Of course it was an invitation, Ratchet. I invited him to have a chat about Megatronus and Orion Pax.”

“That’s – Optimus, that is not what I meant! I know he’s your new co-star, but you would do better to stay away from him as far as you can!”

Prime sounded honestly puzzled. “Why?”

Ratchet glared at Megatron, who pretended not to hear nor to notice the heat of that gaze on his plating. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Optimus, that’s all!”

“Why would I get hurt?” Prime asked, confusion evident in his voice and Ratchet released a long-suffering vent.

“Megatron can be quite charming if he puts his mind to it,” he said grudgingly. “Very charming.”

Prime still appeared confused. “Yes?”

“Optimus, stop being obtuse!” Ratchet hissed. “He’s seduced more of our guest-stars than I care to remember, and I don’t want you to become another notch in his berthpost!”

The battlemask snapped shut. Megatron had to bite down on his grin even as he tried not to wince. “Ratchet, that is not – Megatron is a colleague!”

Ratchet patted Prime’s arm by the sounds of it. “I know, Optimus, I know you aren’t interested, but neither were many of the others at the start. So I’m telling you before he starts working his charms on you. It’s best to be prepared, after all.”

“Ratchet, I assure you, that was not my intention, and it is highly discourteous to Megatron to assume that he would interpret it as such!”

Yes, Ratchet was definitely glaring at Megatron again. “You’re doing him quite an honour by assuming as much, Optimus. I know him better than that. He’s probably biding his time to make his move.”

“Ratchet, please!” Prime sounded a little bit pained. “We just talked about the series.”

“And then he fixed your washrack.”

“Because it broke while he was there and I had to explain what had happened!”

“And took a good, long look at your berthroom while he was at it?”

“Ratchet!”

“You are not going to be alone anywhere with Megatron from now on!”

Prime sputtered. “You cannot make such a decision for me, Ratchet! Or for him, for that matter. And we still have to finish our discussion about Megatronus and Orion Pax!”

“No arguments!” Ratchet barked. “I know that old glitch! Prudence is the better part of valour, Optimus!”

“He is my co-star, Ratchet, I can hardly avoid interacting with him -”

“You can avoid interacting with him while you’re both alone in your apartment in the evening! Optimus, don’t make me move in with you, because you know I will!”

“That is not necessary at all -”

“Says you, but I won’t watch yet another poor mech succumb to him. Now come on, kibble room!”

Prime let himself be herded off the set and into the corridor rather than try and grapple a very determined Ratchet, sending an apologetic glance at Megatron, which he only caught out of the corner of his optic. Because Megatron, for his part, was very busy pretending to stoically stare at the screens in front of him. Starscream and Soundwave along with Rumble and Buzzsaw had stopped pretending already some kliks ago and were staring at Megatron instead. There was a very, _very_ familiar glint in Starscream’s optics as he gleefully rubbed his servos.

“So, someone fixed Prime’s washrack, did he?” he cooed “And didn’t think it worth mentioning, did he? Well, I wonder why that might be!”

See? Megatron had known why he didn’t want Starscream to know!


	5. Prime Pals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did manage to finish c. 5. While I certainly would love to announce that c. 6 is well on its way, too, I’m afraid you might have to wait a while for that one, since I’m kinda busy attempting to organise a move to another country. Life is wonderful and easy when your spouse does not share your nationality. And I so enjoy getting re-acquainted with each and every bloody prejudice against migrants there is. (Yes, irony.)
> 
> Regardless, writing this was fun, so please enjoy c. 5 and have patience. C. 6 will be posted at some point :-)

With everyone’s sudden intense interest in his private affairs – something Megatron was decidedly not used to any longer, since it hadn’t happened since he stopped dating their guest-stars –, Megatron found he was more than grateful that he did not have any shoots scheduled for the next three solar cycles and could therefore simply stay at home and work from there (after all, scripts didn’t read themselves and while memorising his lines was not an issue at all, Megatron did have to decide how he wanted to act the scenes in question. And since they were almost done with the first three episodes by now, and would be starting on the next story arc soon, he needed that time to go through different possibilities and decide on one. And have two or three more as back-up in case whoever was hired as director for the next episodes dislike Megatron’s first suggestion). That way, he only had to endure Soundwave’s inquisitive stares and Starscream’s prodding and poking when they were home, and seeing as both of them very much had to be at Matrix Studios, Megatron had several blessedly Starscream-free groons at his disposal.

The first few of those he spent checking the message board he and Soundwave ran and replying to inquiries. Two of them were from Tarnians who had recently been hired by Metro-Golden-Missile and were now wondering why the studio wasn’t actually giving them any work despite having a clause in the contract that required them to be on stand-by at all times. Others were requests for him to come to Tarn and Vos and give another lecture on how to avoid at least some of the pitfalls within the industry. One request was even from his own old lecturer at the Kaon Academy of Arts, Terminus.

Megatron’s mood immediately lifted as he smiled stupidly down at the datapad and typed an affirmative. It would be great to see Terminus again, and giving a lecture in Kaon wouldn’t present as many obstacles as travelling to Vos or Tarn did while they were shooting. He could easily set aside one evening for that. Perhaps, if he notified Ultra Magnus ahead of time, Alpha Trion could even make the time to attend. Because this, this was why Megatron kept working for Matrix Studios. It gave him the time he desperately needed to gather a following, to convince other mecha in the industry that there were other ways than the zero-hour-contracts the big studios liked to hand out. That it wasn’t right that popular actors were paid more by default, simply because they were better-known. That there was a long list of things that went wrong in the industry, and that it needed to change. Alpha Trion not only knew, but actively supported Megatron spreading his ideas on the grid and within the industry.

That alone would have earnt him loyalty from Megatron. Moreover, though, Alpha Trion was also firmly of the conviction that he could not expect others to put into action what he refused to do.

Matrix Studios was therefore the one and only holovid studio the workers of which were organised in what Megatron and Soundwave had decided to call The Industry Workers’ Union (TIWU). Once every three stellar cycles, Alpha Trion and the members of the TIWU committee met up to discuss issues that had arisen in the last stellar cycles and to find solutions that benefitted both sides. It was not always an easy process, of course not, and Megatron had had to grudgingly give on some points – like for example when he tried to increase the pay rate per groon by four shanix on account of rising housing prices and Alpha Trion had informed him very decidedly that if he were to do so, he would have to let some workers go to make up for the additional expense. All things considered, though, Alpha Trion was rarely unreasonable. If he rejected a proposition, he generally had good reasons. Megatron could respect that. He could work with that. He _enjoyed_ working like that, and he wanted others in the industry to have the same opportunities to make their voices heard. Matrix Studios could not employ every single mech and femme on the planet who wished to work in the holovid industry.

So far, his and Soundwave and Starscream’s exertions to establish a similar system in other studios had fallen through. Megatron was nothing if not stubborn, though. He had quickly realised that he would have little success with the Iaconian studios, so he was concentrating his efforts on Tarn and Vos for the time being, and more than one of their guest-stars had left RoRo with a thoughtful frown on their faces, and contacted Megatron later on – with stories, with questions, with encouraging words. The message board was doing a great job at helping them establish a network of like-processored mecha across Cybertron. They even had a few Polyhexians as members, and that was an achievement in itself, because while Polyhexians didn’t like Iacon, they certainly weren’t convinced much good would come out of other cities either.

Sentinel, of course, had perpetually scoffed and lectured Megatron on how this endeavour was futile and besides, the holovid industry was perfect as it was, and what would a third-rate sparkling holovid actor like Megatron know about it anyhow. Other Iaconians had reacted much the same when they first encountered TIWU. Megatron had learnt the painful way to stay alert and careful around them when talking about TIWU or his work. In fact, many of their guest-stars had remained ignorant that Megatron was TIWU’s main representative. Tarnians and Vosians were surprised, although not necessarily unpleasantly, by several of the policies Matrix Studios enforced. Iaconians seemed to think them a violation of the natural order of things.

Most Iaconians. Matrix Studios employed more than one of them, but only the ones who were actually onboard with the policies stayed in the long run. Mecha like Cliffjumper, although, being a scriptwriter, he wasn’t around on studio grounds all that much. Greenlight and Moonracer over at Studio 2, they played two of the leads in another very popular series, _Thunderwings_. Megatron had little contact with them in frame, though, he mostly saw them at general TIWU assemblies. Still, they attended and cast their votes along with the rest of the studio workers, and Megatron could appreciate that. Sentinel had never, not even once, shown up for one of those assemblies, and neither had many other Iaconians.

Although perhaps, at some point in the future, Optimus Prime would attend. Megatron could not help the lurching feeling in his tank at the prospect. If he was serious about his complaints about the Iaconian industry, maybe the mech could be swayed to their side? Evidence appeared to be in favour of the possibility. Megatron could not imagine Alpha Trion maintaining a friendship with a mech whose views on the industry were diametrically opposed to his own, and Prime _had_ agreed to work for Matrix Studios.

Of course, Megatron still had no clue how much he was being paid. Matrix Studios paid every one of their workers the same – or at least, everyone who did the same job got paid the same. The Constructicons were paid a different wage than Megatron, Soundwave and Starscream, but Megatron did not get paid more than Starscream because he had a lead role. He _earnt_ more, for sure, but that was because he worked longer groons than Starscream. Their pay per groon was the same, and Starscream made up for the difference by working as a director besides. So did Soundwave. So did, as a matter of fact, Megatron when they were not shooting a new season for RoRo. That was why he got to work as an extra on the other series.

Megatron ex-vented and rubbed his helm, then took it off to let the sensory panels unfold. He knew he would have to ask Ultra Magnus eventually how Matrix Studios was affording Optimus Prime – he could not tolerate the mech being paid more simply because he was a Prime. If they started making exceptions for him, the next thing they knew, someone like Arcee or Bumblebee might ask for a pay raise as well because they were Iacon-trained. Primus knew Sentinel had tried to play that card numerous times, which had made for a few shouting matches between him and Megatron on set.

Technically, Megatron could even ask Prime himself. But if he did, he would have to explain why he wanted to know. Asking about a mech’s pay rate wasn’t exactly considered polite. And that was something Megatron did not quite feel up to. For all his pretty words, TIWU and Megatron’s efforts to improve working conditions in the industry weren’t something you simply shared with the next-best Iaconian Prime, and Megatron could even, to a certain extent, understand why someone like him might be opposed to the changes they were proposing. After all, the TIWU committee and all of those who were regular members of the message board were working on what was, in essence, a revolution. If they succeeded, actors like Optimus Prime stood to lose a huge share of their current income, and while the mech in question did not seem much inclined towards luxuries, other Primes like Sentinel or Nova certainly were. Megatron had seen the image captures of their places.

Which reminded him of the serene, almost ascetic place Prime had here.

Curious, Megatron turned back to the datapad and called up a search engine. After all, Starscream was not home and Soundwave knew better than to comment on the searches Megatron ran. Optimus Prime had to have given more than the few interviews on his prior roles that Megatron had watched in the past. Perhaps he had even given a tour of his home like other Primes occasionally did? Megatron had never spent much time looking into Optimus Prime’s private functioning (it felt too much like he was actively crushing on the mech, which he was _not),_ but he would need to ascertain how far he could trust the mech, would he not? And the Temple did have a habit of inviting actors, especially Primes, to debates about the moral lessons to be learnt from the plays they had starred in.

Yes, this was promising to be a good use of his time. Megatron idly glanced over the first few results and then picked the debate on _A Mid-dry-season’s Recharge Flux_. _Mechtrius_. Let’s see what Optimus Prime had to say about the flighty, weak-processored mech.

* * *

“Megatron, I am so sorry for what Ratchet said, and please rest assured that I do not agree with him,” Prime said the moment Megatron entered the kibble room two solar cycles later.

Which, unfortunately, required Megatron to respond to him instead of delivering the punch to Knock Out’s grinning visage that it was asking for. His patience for being teased had measurably diminished during the last three solar cycles, no little thanks to Starscream insisting on relating every single vent of Prime’s and eagerly waiting for Megatron’s reaction.

“It’s alright, Ratchet can’t stand me,” he said instead, flaring his plating in warning at their kibble designer and narrowing his optics for good measure. He knew Knock Out would join in sooner or later anyway, and he would much prefer that to happen once Prime was out of audial range.

Knock Out mimicked a kiss and continued attaching Prime’s kibble. Megatron bit back a growl. Oh, Knock Out really had it coming now.

“Yes, I have been notified of the state of affairs between the two of you. Several times and at great length and volume.” It was a skill, it really was, how dry Prime’s voice could sound even as his optics flickered between Knock Out and Megatron. “I would still like you to know that I have made clear to Ratchet that I will not be refraining from talking to you without a chaperone, which I deem entirely unnecessary.”

Megatron looked at him now, trying to decide whether he was relieved or annoyed. “Good. Because contrary to what Ratchet appears to believe, I do not make a habit out of going to berth with my co-stars.”

“He used to go for the guest-stars,” Knock Out agreed, and Megatron was so going to scratch his paint the next chance he got. “Hasn’t in a while now, though.”

“Unlike other mecha in this room I could mention,” Megatron bit back, because seriously, this was extremely unprofessional. Besides, Megatron’s flings were his business, not something to be paraded about for Prime’s entertainment.

Knock Out only grinned. “Oh, Optimus doesn’t mind. Or do you, Optimus?”

Megatron startled even as Prime smiled his signature tiny smile. “It is none of my business what grown mecha decide to do with each other,” he said, pretty graciously all things considered, then looked back at Megatron and seemed to pick up on his discomfort. “But I do agree that it should be their choice to talk about said activities.”

Knock Out heaved a deep ex-vent while Megatron was still trying to process the gentle reprimand. What the frag was going on here?

“Oh, alright! If you insist.” Knock Out winked at Prime, and Megatron finally caught on. Knock Out had accepted Prime as part of the permanent crew! And now he was gossiping with him about Megatron!

That was – that was actually pretty outrageous. Megatron had been working from home for three measly solar cycles and suddenly Optimus Prime was entitled to be treated as permanent crew and consequently, entitled to all the gossip Knock Out had to share?

“Knock Out -” he growled in warning and was huffed at.

“Oh, don’t be like that! Let me enjoy working with an Orion Pax who actually takes an interest in the mecha he works with instead of ones living in Iacon!”

Megatron glanced at Prime, increasingly upset and wondering if Starscream was actually in on this. After all, out of the permanent crew, Starscream, Knock Out and Breakdown had so far had the most opportunities to evaluate the new cast members, and it was hardly a secret that they liked Prime. It was Megatron, Soundwave and the set crew who had had little contact with them as of yet owing to the scripts of the first three episodes. Pits, but even so, Hook had let Prime have his set!

Was _everyone_ already agreed that Optimus Prime was to be accepted into their fold? After barely a few deca-cycles and without one single episode actually ready to be aired?

Moreover, without asking Megatron?

Yes, he was indignant at not having been consulted ( _not_ embarrassed at them all having caught on to the fact that he thought Optimus Prime was hot as slag. Nope. Definitely not). They couldn’t just ignore him! He wasn’t sure what to make of Optimus Prime yet!

… alright, _some_ parts of Megatron knew exactly what they made of Optimus Prime, and had known for quite some time. Other than other mecha, Megatron however preferred to think with his processor and not his interface array, thankyouverymuch! And his processor was _not_ certain what to make of one Optimus, Iacon-approved Prime and actor extraordinaire.

Optimus Prime, who had tilted his helm to the side, considering both of them with a thoughtful expression in his optics. Clearly he had caught onto the fact that something beyond his understanding was taking place here, and while Megatron was more than willing to aid him in handling reluctant landlords, explaining the crew traditions within Matrix Studios was not quite on his list!

Not least because being accepted as part of the permanent crew also included being provided with as many personal details about any given mech as were available, and becoming liable to be punched in the face if being out of line.

… thinking about it, perhaps he should give Prime a helms-up about that. Megatron’s experience with Iaconians was that they had little appreciation for a friendly punch every now and then. Although Prime was a warframe, so there wasn’t the additional complication of said punches being executed with enough force to dent, even if everyone pulled them. There was a marked difference between a friendly punch and the kind of punch meant to really hurt – not that Prime was likely to know. Ratchet, for all that he had worked at Matrix Studios for vorns, still couldn’t quite tell. He fit in well enough with his generally gruff attitude (and let’s not forget those wrenches that mysteriously always seemed to populate his subspace in huge numbers – the widely accepted hypothesis was that Ratchet had somehow found a way of breeding them in there), and of course, he was a very respected and even popular mech around Matrix Studios; still, one could tell that he wasn’t properly Kaonian or naturalised.

Prime put a stop to Megatron’s internal conflict by clearing his intake and looking him straight in the optics. “Set gossip is a common way to pass the time,” he offered guardedly. “It does not mean everything said is true, or that one needs to listen to it.”

Oh, great. Did he think Megatron was embarrassed about him knowing of Megatron’s amorous adventures? The only reason Megatron did not want Knock Out to expound on the topic was that he didn’t want Prime getting any ideas concerning Megatron’s intentions towards him!

With a huff, he sat down in the other chair and glared at Knock Out. “I don’t care what Ratchet says or believes. He’s still holding a grudge for First Aid, nevermind that we got that out of the way ages ago.”

“He is rather good at holding grudges, especially on behalf of mecha he feels he has to protect,” Prime agreed, offering Megatron another smile. ”I am afraid I count amongst that number, too.”

Megatron made a noise. “Aye, that was obvious.”

The smile was growing. “He was very glad when I decided to leave the Military. According to him, I never had what it takes to be a good little soldier.”

That sounded like there was a story there. Megatron ignored Knock Out smirking to himself – he had probably already gotten said story out of either of the protagonists – and said, “Oh?”

Prime nodded and was huffed at by Knock Out. “Optimus, please don’t ruin my work!”

“My apologies.” The smile disappeared as Prime did a rather convincing impression of a rock.

“You can talk,” Knock Out allowed graciously. “So, you were saying about Ratchet?”

“Yes. I believe I already mentioned that he was the military surgeon for my unit, and when I entered the Military, we became friends.”

That, Megatron suspected, actually translated to ‘Ratchet took a shine to Prime, who then spent a considerable amount of time intensely confused about Ratchet’s intentions’. Because Megatron had watched that happen as well, most notably when Ratchet, for reasons unknown, took a shine to Grimlock over at Studio 7, and they had nearly come to blows before Ratchet, incredibly annoyed, finally yelled, “I’m doing it because I _like_ you, you overgrown sparkling Predacon!”

Grimlock had been confused, then he had preened, and ever since then, he loved prancing about with Ratchet whenever he could. Megatron was pretty certain that if Ratchet asked him to, Grimlock would beat Sentinel to scrap, and was only glad that Grimlock firmly disagreed with Ratchet’s dislike of himself, because yes, he could take him on, but he would rather not, thankyouverymuch.

Suffice to say, Ratchet had a very special arsenal of affectionate gestures, so Megatron simply hummed to show he was listening and resolved to ask any questions about how Prime had figured out that Ratchet was fond of him at a later point in time, and possibly when – if ever – Prime was drunk.

“It was actually him who suggested I take the opportunity and get retrained. I had planned to complete the basic training and then see what I would like to do. As far as I was concerned, there was no particular hurry, however, Ratchet disagreed.”

“Did he now?” Megatron raised an optic ridge. “And did he actually mention his reasons for wanting you out of the military?”

Prime smiled, looking almost as if he was about to chuckle. He did not, though, instead he said, “According to Ratchet, if any of the higher-ups figured out in time what a good general I would make, they would never let me go, so I needed to find something better than weapons and warfare to catch my attention before they did and I decided this was the best way to spend my time.”

Knock Out burst out laughing. “That is Ratchet for you!” he cackled. “Oh, he really does like you, doesn’t he? He’s got nothing but bad words for most of the generals he used to work under.”

That was something Megatron had not previously known, but in all fairness, there was a reason why Knock Out knew all the gossip. Getting kitted out was not an activity that lent itself well to intellectual debates, so old ‘war’ stories it was. He had to agree, though, this was an interesting bit of information.

“So Ratchet wanted you to leave the military because you would have been good at it?”

Another smile and a wry look from blue optics. “According to Ratchet, I would have excelled at it, and it would have destroyed me. Better to leave before my own sense of responsibility had a chance to trap me there. His words, not mine.”

“Huh,” Megatron said, mulling that over. The thing was, he and Ratchet hated each other (well, Ratchet hated him, anyway), yet at the same time, Megatron had a lot of respect for Ratchet’s skills. He was an excellent medic, and despite his incredibly abrasive berthside manner, a very good judge of character (excepting his inexplicable patronage of Sentinel, which, Megatron suspected, not even Ratchet understood in hindsight). Not that Megatron had ever considered Optimus Prime a shallow, flighty sort of mech, but a strong sense of responsibility? That had not necessarily featured high on the list of personality traits he ascribed to him. “So you did what he told you and left the military to become a librarian.”

“I do not miss it,” Prime said, and he was back at watching Megatron with that intense attention, as if he was trying to figure out what threads were running through his processor. Was he concerned Megatron’s opinion of him might change once he heard those assessments? Admittedly, it was a bit strange that Prime was being so – generous with such personal information considering how incredibly private he seemed to be otherwise. Megatron now knew that for a fact, because while he wasn’t as good at finding information as Soundwave, he was certainly capable of comparing the number of interviews and debates Optimus Prime had given and partaken in to how many interviews and debates other Primes had given, and catch onto the fact that there was a rather noticeable discrepancy.

Which begged the question of why Optimus Prime did not give interviews nor took part in debates. The Temple loved flaunting their Primes about. Even Sentinel had already given several interviews and taken part in two debates, and he so far only had _Mecheo & Femliet_ to his designation. Optimus Prime was a bloody regular. Why was the Temple not putting him out there like they did with the others? Were they scared of what Optimus Prime might say? That he might contradict the Temple’s official standpoint on what Cybertronians should learn from a specific play?

It was a thrilling thought, yet not one Megatron was going to accept as more than a working hypothesis before he had acquired more information. Perhaps Prime simply possessed an almost uncanny knack for avoiding any questions concerning his affairs.

Not that Megatron could blame him. The newsmecha might consider Cybertron’s politicians more interesting than mere actors, within the industry, however, the reverse was most definitely the case. Even at Matrix Studios everyone’s affairs were everyone else’s business. The only difference, again, was in how most of the crew approached matters. When Ratchet had found out about Megatron and First Aid, he had marched up straight to Megatron and yelled at him, and that was how they all did it. If you cared about what someone else was doing enough to object to it, you went and told them straight out. If you didn’t, well then why bring it up in conversation? It had disturbed Megatron to no little extent to find out that in Iaconian studios, such frankness was considered incredibly rude. And of course he knew that this was partly due to just how small Matrix Studios were compared to most of the bigger studios; it was still uncomfortable to never know for sure what the mech you were talking to really thought.

Perhaps that was why Prime was being so straightforward. Either he was trying to get Megatron to share similar information, or he had at least heard about how things were handled at Matrix Studios, and was attempting to adapt rather clumsily.

The intention was appreciated, Megatron might still have to explain a few things in more detail. Unless very close, Kaonites did not generally offer up such bits of information to each other – unlike Iaconians, who appeared to have little to no care for who heard their thoughts as long as the mechanism these thoughts concerned did not know about them. That was why at Matrix Studios, getting treated to the more intimate bits of set gossip was a sure sign that one was being accepted into the crew. Prime doing so of his own accord could be misconstrued as him trying to force his way in. Not that Megatron thought he was, not that he thought anyone at the RoRo-studio was going to think that; it was still something Prime should probably know about.

Holy Primus, Optimus Prime hadn’t been on the series for even half a stellar cycle, and he was giving Megatron a real helmache!

And causing him to act weird, because it was only when Knock Out waved a servo in front of his optics that he realised he had spaced out and startled, core temperature jumping. Knock Out smirked at him. “Anyone home?”

“Frag you,” Megatron growled, desperately trying to find a way to preserve some of his dignity. Knock Out, uncharacteristically, showed some kind of mercy and turned back to Prime, still smirking but also saying, “Seems to have been a late night-cycle reading Plane-Coasting-essays again.”

That was an acceptable excuse. Megatron cleared his intake, tried to pretend that Prime wasn’t skewering him with those blue optics, and said, “Sorry, Prime, what were you saying?’

“That I do not miss being in the military.” A small smile came with the words, and then Prime stood and nodded at him. “Starscream is probably already waiting for me. I will see you later. Megatron, Knock Out.”

“Sure, see you later!” Knock Out replied, still very chipper, and Megatron hastened to mumble some sort of affirmation as well as the big mech left the room.

Once he was outside, Knock Out whirled around to him and let loose a very, very rude honk, optics blazing with sheer greed.

“So, Lord Megatronus! And now I want all the dirty details of that visit if it was enough to make you space out like that!”

Megatron _glared_ at him.

“Knock Out, I _hate_ you!”

* * *

The rest of Megatron’s day-cycle was only marginally better. He did manage, with a combination of threats of paint-related harm and stubborn silence, to get Knock Out off his back, although the victory was soured by Knock Out’s announcement that he was going to take Prime shopping for paint once they both had a free slot. Megatron wasn’t entirely certain if it was meant to help Knock Out satisfy his curiosity another way, or if their kibble designer was actually planning on gathering more information about Prime’s side of things. Because Megatron knew that to those who had been working with him for vorns, his behaviour was practically an unencrypted file. Sure, he had never kept his opinion on the Prime’s acting abilities secret; the fact that watching Optimus Prime on screen could give Megatron a few pleasant (and sticky) recharge fluxes, though? That was not something he had seen fit to mention.

He did not appreciate that being out in the open now, nevermind Knock Out’s gentle, “Megatron, you know I can keep my intake shut if I have to” at the end of his shoot. Megatron knew. It didn’t make things any better, because Starscream was already waggling his optic ridges, Rumble and Frenzy were grinning like the Unmaker’s spawn once they saw Megatron enter the set, and the Constructicons had apparently already caught on as well if Long Haul and Bonecrusher’s sudden departure from the oil trolley when Prime joined Megatron there was any indication.

Not to be repetitive, but Megatron barely knew Optimus Prime!

And he most definitely did not need backup. Certainly not in the form of everyone else happily welcoming Prime as a member of the crew without a thought to potential consequences. As if they had already forgotten what happened to Ratchet after Sentinel was declared Prime. As if they had forgotten other incidents with guest-stars who seemed nice enough and in the end turned their back on them, returned to Iacon and lost no time complaining about how horrible their time at Matrix Studios had been. Yes, Megatron knew about that, because for some reason, those glitches seemed to think that when they talked to actors from Vos or Tarn, it wouldn’t reach Kaon.

Besides, it was bloody exhausting being watched surreptitiously from all corners whenever he so much as greeted Prime.

As may be imagined, Megatron’s mood upon arriving home was therefore less than stellar, and really, all he wanted was to sit down, find a datapad, check if any messages had arrived on the message board and watch the rerun of whichever episode of _Star Paths_ was broadcast on S4V.

Instead he was treated to a video call from Captain Steelyard himself.

Captain Steelyard, more commonly known as Thundercracker and Starscream’s trinemate to those in the industry in the know (which, given Starscream’s predilection to talk about himself, made up a surprisingly low number of mecha).

“Starscream’s not back yet,” Megatron said immediately as the screen split into two sections and he was able to see Captain Steelyard side-by-side with his less-decorated (but still very much polished) actor. Thankfully, the audio had automatically muted itself, because he knew for a fact that Thundercracker wasn’t any more fond of hearing his own voice than Megatron himself was – likely the explanation why he was calling now, because Skywarp did not share that opinion and would be watching the rerun somewhere else in their apartment in Vos.

Thundercracker looked annoyed for a moment, then his expression cleared. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Star said he would be late today ’cause he was going to take Prime to the editing room,” he said and Megatron froze.

“What?”

An ex-vent and rolling optics were his answer. “I told him you wouldn’t be happy, and I don’t think Soundwave will be, either, but he insisted.”

Megatron snarled, his patience having hit its limit. “Why the pit does everyone think I should go and frag Prime? He’s my bloody co-star! He’s Orion Pax! No-one ever thought I should frag Sentinel!”

“Well, Sentinel is a stuck-up aft,” Thundercracker said seriously. “No-one would have wanted to do that to you, we like you too much for that. Optimus Prime’s a different matter, but if it’s any consolation to you, Star’s only trying to impress him with his directing skills.”

Megatron growled low and Thundercracker ex-vented again. “Look, I know Star went over the top, and Sky and Soundwave weren’t much help either, but if you must crush on anyone from Iacon, we’d all much rather it be Optimus Prime. At least he seems to be a fairly down-to-surface mech.”

Megatron sat down on the sofa and grumbled. “I don’t see how it’s anyone’s business. I’m not planning on doing anything about it.”

“It is no-one’s business,” Thundercracker agreed. “But you know yourself how these things go at Matrix, and Megatron, you can’t expect the rest of us not to care if you get cross-wired with someone from Iacon, and then Optimus Prime to boot.”

He huffed impatiently. “Like I said, I have no intention of getting cross-wired with him.”

“He seems to be interested in getting cross-wired with you, though, from all I’ve heard.”

Megatron huffed again, saying no more – Thundercracker didn’t even know the half of it, no-one but Megatron knew about the compliments Prime had slipped into their conversation back at his place. While he had mentioned to Soundwave and Starscream that Prime knew and liked _Gladiator,_ he had skipped the part where Prime confessed to having watched all of Megatron’s holovids, because what the frag. Megatron himself didn’t know what to make of that. And it could all just be professional curiosity, or perhaps, if Megatron allowed himself to consider the possibility, an appreciation of Megatron’s acting skills. After all, Prime was apparently big on not losing talent.

Thundercracker ex-vented once more when Megatron sullenly kept his silence. “Yeah, I know it’s not nice to be the centre of attention like that, but seriously, what did you expect? Optimus Prime playing Orion Pax by itself is a huge thing, and then him inviting you back to his place to talk about the series? Besides, again from what I’ve heard, the two of you make a sight when you’re in your roles.”

Megatron rubbed his helm. “He’s a good fighter and an excellent actor. What did everyone expect?”

“Megatron, you’re a great actor,” Thundercracker said, again very seriously. “We all know you’re wasted on something like RoRo. So is he, for that matter, but you finally having someone to match your acting skills playing opposite to you? Even if you’d managed to continue playing at being indifferent towards him on a personal level, everyone would’ve tried to give him a warm welcome simply so he’ll stay on the show. It isn’t all about pushing you into berth with him, you know? It’s been ages since you had a chance to properly put those skills of yours to use, and with him playing Orion Pax, there’s a good chance Alpha Trion will try and go for more intricate storylines. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t like that.”

Megatron huffed and refused to reply. Thundercracker ex-vented again. “Alright, I can see this isn’t going anywhere, so how about we talk about something else instead until Star comes home? I’ve been asked by several of the others when you’re going to visit Vos again and give another speech on the state of the industry.”

“Iaconians hook up with their co-stars during shooting,” Megatron snapped, completely ignoring Thundercracker’s statement. “Popularity spring-boarding isn’t my style!”

Thundercracker did look like he was about to lose patience, but he was bonded to Starscream and Skywarp, and his reserves of it were rather vast. “Megatron, I know you don’t trust him because he’s from Iacon and he’s a Prime, and we all know and understand your reasons. He’s still the only Prime about whom we’ve never heard complaints from any of those who‘ve worked with him. He doesn’t prance around flaunting his wealth, he’s generally regarded as very polite and kind, and I know a number of Tarnians who’d adopt him if given half a chance. You know how they are, they wouldn’t if they didn’t like him. Yes, it’s strange that he’s agreed to work on RoRo, but maybe just give him a chance? Not every Prime is Sentinel. Besides, what has he got to gain from all of this? He’s a Prime.”

“My point exactly. He has nothing to gain from it.” Megatron crossed his arms, quietly seething.

“Primus below, him being on the show is really fragging up your logic units,” Thundercracker said, and had the temerity to sound impressed. “You can’t possibly be thinking that he’s offering you to use him as a springboard into the Iacon industry.”

“I wouldn’t even if he did!” Megatron growled. “And it’s the last thing I want him to think, so thank you, absolutely _nothing_ will be happening between he and I!”

Thundercracker was quiet for a moment, then he ex-vented and rubbed his helm. “Megatron, you’re an institution in your own right. This isn’t another Sentinel-Ratchet-situation. Optimus may be a Prime, but you are Megatronus. Frag the Iaconian studios. You don’t need them, and everyone knows it.”

“Did you know he didn’t even reply to Ratchet’s comm telling him congratulations on being appointed Prime?” Megatron growled. “I won’t have Optimus Prime thinking we at Matrix Studios are desperate enough for attention from Iacon that we’d stoop to fragging our co-stars.”

“I don’t for a klik believe he’d think that,” Thundercracker said, shaking his helm. “Holy Primus, that pitspawn Sentinel has really left some dents, hasn’t he? Frag, I almost feel like paying him a visit and roughing him up a bit. Shatter his nice new windows, at least.”

“I’m game, but what are we roughing Sentinel Prime up for?” Skywarp asked from the background and came into view, grinning at Megatron. “Lord Megatronus. Star not home yet?”

“No,” Megatron grumbled as Thundercracker said, “We’re roughing him up for making Megatron so paranoid about Iaconians that he’s saying he wouldn’t even get a piece of his aft if Optimus Prime offered.”

Skywarp looked flummoxed. “What, seriously? Fraggin’ Primus, I’m totally in! That aft is something else!”

Megatron glared at him, his patience having reached its limit. “I’ll tell Starscream to call you back.”

“Whoa, Megatron, what about that speech -”

The screen went black and Megatron slumped back into the sofa, venting slowly and consciously, then slipped lower, groaning in exasperation. He wanted Prime to stay on the show. He wanted to continue talking to him, and playing opposite to him, and he probably wouldn’t even have minded being teased about Optimus Prime, but there was Ratchet’s reaction and now Starscream’s uncharacteristic offer to take Prime into the editing room. Megatron wasn’t stupid, and he knew Starscream was still hoping to find other jobs elsewhere, preferably in Vos, of course, but his chances of being hired as a permanent director by one of the Vosian studios would be much better if he had directed for an Iaconian studio before.

On the one servo, Megatron was incensed at the simple thought that Starscream would do that, would choose to crawl up Prime’s smokestacks in the hopes that this would get him in touch with important mecha in Iacon. On the other, well, he couldn’t really blame Starscream for wanting to go home, returning to his trine and live with them like he was supposed to do. The casual ease with which Thundercracker and Skywarp asked Megatron whether Starscream was home yet was – well, Megatron didn’t know what to label his feelings on the matter, but he didn’t like it. It wasn’t right. Megatron and Soundwave were Starscream’s _friends,_ they weren’t his trinemates, and yet his real trinemates called their apartment Starscream’s home. So no, he wasn’t going to take it up with Starscream, but he would make slagging sure Prime didn’t think Megatron was trying to use him as a springboard.

Besides, he had no intention of leaving Matrix Studios anyway. And Megatron wasn’t going to fall victim to wishful processing and think he stood a chance with the mech because Optimus Prime was hot as slag and liked Megatron’s work. Looking was one thing. Getting cross-wired was another, and that was not something Megatron would permit himself to become.

* * *

Considering how many reservations Megatron had regarding Optimus Prime, one could almost have suspected that the rest of the RoRo-crew was trying to make up for his suspicions. Because the others certainly weren’t holding back in Prime’s presence, quite the contrary. Knock Out, as promised, took Prime shopping for polish and brushes. Starscream took him out to dinner at one of the fancier Kaonian oilhouses. And then Megatron watched, in short order, Scrapper discussing a new set design with Prime, Hook letting him and Team Pax onto a half-finished set for a dry rehearsal, and Laserbeak settling down on his pauldron during a break, and had just about enough.

“Am I surrounded by traitors?” he growled and Soundwave, busy at his console, turned his helm to him. Megatron gestured, taking care to not draw unwanted attention. “Am I the only one who remembers that he’s an Iaconian Prime?”

Soundwave looked at where Prime was patiently coaching Bulkhead, then back at Megatron, and strode away from the console.

Megatron knew him well enough to follow stante pede. Once outside and safe from curious audials, his best friend turned to him. “Megatron: dislikes Optimus Prime?”

Megatron crossed his arms and huffed. “You know I don’t dislike him.”

“Megatron: dislikes everyone liking Optimus Prime.”

A small growl came from his vocaliser. “Well, I’m certainly not happy about how everyone is kissing his pedes! Don’t tell me you like him being in the editing room! You hardly tolerate Starscream in there!”

Soundwave was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Soundwave: not impressed with Starscream inviting Optimus Prime to editing room. However: Optimus Prime very polite every time he has been there. Also: very interested.”

Megatron threw his servos up. “Great. Is everyone on this blasted set star-struck and/or convinced I should just fall into berth with him?"

“Soundwave: apologises."

Megatron ex-vented deeply. “It’s fine, Soundwave,” he said, trying to rein himself in. “I know you didn’t mean to – anyway. It’s fine."

Soundwave stepped closer to him, the equivalent of a hug from a different mech. But Soundwave had never been much given to physical contact unless his apprentices were demanding to be hugged. “Soundwave: would not wish Megatron to get caught up in relationship with Prime. Soundwave: was concerned for Megatron before visit to Prime’s apartment."

That – oh. That was actually quite nice to hear. Megatron felt himself relaxing. “You are the only one on set who doesn’t think I should berth him, excepting Ratchet," he said dryly. “Pit, even Thundercracker and Skywarp seem to be in on this!"

“Megatron: wishes to berth Optimus Prime, though?"

Megatron ex-vented and looked away. “I know better than to listen to my interface array these cycles, Soundwave, and you know that as well. He is – good-looking, of course. I’d have to be blind not to notice. But I’m too old for these games. Besides, that’s what we have Knock Out for on this set. I can restrain myself."

“Megatron: has been alone for quite some time."

He shuffled his weight to his other leg. “There wasn’t anyone interesting around."

Soundwave inclined his helm again. “Soundwave: desires Megatron’s happiness. Optimus Prime: a challenge worthy of Megatron. Soundwave: advises caution. Megatron: habit of falling helm over pedes."

A wry smile quirked his lips. “Hard to argue that with a mech who was around for all of my youthful mistakes."

Soundwave’s generally restricted EM field touched his, conveying affection and warmth. “Soundwave: will be there whatever Megatron chooses to do."

“Thank you," he said quietly, spark-felt. “I’m just – trying to give it some time."

Another nod. “Approach: wise."

Megatron chuckled, then straightened when screeching from inside the studio could be heard. “Sounds like Starscream’s discovered we went missing. Shall we?"

Soundwave displayed ;-p on his visor, then strode on ahead as Megatron followed, sniggering to himself and feeling much more up to dealing with the whole situation now. Soundwave, at the very least, had his back, regardless of Megatron’s decisions.

* * *

Between everyone else’s none-too-subtle _encouragements_ and his waning patience, Megatron had refrained from approaching Prime about his conspicuous absence in the Temple’s educational holovids. He had absolutely no desire to add fuel to the fire, so he had stuck to only discussing RoRo-related matters with Prime whenever they found themselves unoccupied and in the same vicinity for long enough to have a conversation. Not that that happened often.

However, right now he was staring into the bright blue optics, which may or may not have shown a hint of surprise, and they weren’t even anywhere near the studio yet. No, they were standing in front of the small store Ratbat kept running beside his catering business, and Prime had just stepped outside with what was very definitely a rather large bag of Ratbat’s signature red crystal doughnuts.

“Megatron!” Prime said, battlemask snapping shut. “This is a surprise. I expected to see you at the studio.”

His voice came out a tad muffled, which put Megatron at more ease. He gestured behind him. “My apartment’s in that direction. I usually fly in to work. Soundwave wanted me to deliver something to Ratbat.”

“Of course.” Prime stepped aside, freeing the door. Megatron nodded at him, entered and handed the datadisk over to the shop attendant – every employee of Ratbat’s knew the drill.

Prime and his doughnut bag were still occupying the pedepath when he returned, and offered him a tiny smile. “Shall we walk together?”

“Sure.” The mech could have transformed and driven on ahead, although yes, that would have been extremely awkward, too. Grasping for a conversation topic, Megatron nodded at the bag as they started walking. “Are you not getting enough of Ratbat’s stuff on set?”

The finials flickered minutely again and Prime cleared his intake. “I may have to confess to a weakness for these in particular.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for a sweet one.”

Oh, slag! Megatron wanted to turn around and bang his helm against the building beside him when Prime’s optics shuttered in surprise.

“I – not in general, no. Red crystal is not used much in Iacon, though.”

Megatron made a sound of assent, glad that Prime had chosen to ignore the possible meaning of his words. “It’s quite common around here. Found in most of the mines, you know. They sell it cheap.”

“I had wondered about that, yes. Do you like it?”

Megatron gave a small shrug. “I don’t dislike it, but I really prefer green crystal.”

“Spicy aftertaste.” Megatron caught the small nod. “Yes, it is very good as well. I cannot have much of it, unfortunately, my tanks are apparently not too fond of it.”

Holy Primus below, was he walking through Kaon with Optimus Prime discussing crystal preferences? Megatron wanted to sink into the pedepath and disappear.

That being an impossibility despite rumours that the ancient, real Primes had been able to disappear to the inside of the planet with nary a thought, Megatron cleared his intake and said, in an utter non-sequitur, “So, I came across your interview from back when you starred in _A Toy’s Habsuite.”_

Prime inclined his helm. “ _Honora._ One of my favourite roles. I have always regretted that they decided not to put the play on the schedule after the holovid came out.”

Megatron hummed. That was not why he had picked that interview specifically, yet still provided him with a nice in. “Well, it is considered outdated.”

Prime frowned. “Only if you insist on restricting its relevance to the question of femme equality. And even then I would not precisely say it is completely irrelevant.”

“You said as much in the debate and the interview.” And hadn’t that been interesting, but it was not what Megatron was out for right now. “Any particular reason why there aren’t any debates where you talk about, say, _A Recharge Flux Play?_ Or _The Solvent Sparklings?_ I would have thought the latter especially would be close to your spark considering your love for sparklings.”

Prime tilted his helm to the side and glanced at him. “It is.”

“The interviews you gave for those were rather -” Megatron searched for a fitting expression, “- superficial.”

“I am afraid I was not blessed with particularly inquisitive newsmecha during those interviews,” Prime said dryly. “And I am not sure if you are aware, but we as actors cannot decide to join the Temple debates about plays just like that. We need an invitation to do so.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge. “And they didn’t invite you? That strikes me as strange.”

Prime was silent for a moment before he said, “The Temple’s decisions regarding debate circles are not something I have a lot of insight into. And I was actually invited to one debate about _The Solvent Sparklings,_ but it clashed with my shooting schedule.”

Megatron hummed again. “Have you ever thought about publishing essays instead?”

Prime smiled, although his optics were serious. “I’m sure you know just how difficult it is to publish such essays when one isn’t a priest or a senior member of the Academy. Alpha Trion might be permitted, but me?”

“You could publish them on the grid instead,” Megatron suggested. “I’m sure mecha would be interested in your opinions.”

Prime’s smile widened a little. “You presuppose that I would be able to write essays worth publishing.”

“Surely a librarian-at-spark like you knows how to write a proper essay?” Megatron’s tank fluttered. “I would certainly be interested in reading them.”

Because as enigmatic as he was being right now, if he wrote essays on his interpretation of these plays, Megatron would be able to get a better grasp of where exactly Prime’s sympathies lay and what his true opinions were. His suspicion that the Temple did not like to put him up for interviews and debates because his views might differ too much from theirs was beginning to look more like a real possibility. Yet even if that was the case, and it was not just because Prime was awkward during interviews, or hated giving them, or behaved like little more than a pretty decoration while everyone else did the debating, Megatron still needed to know where and in which manner Prime’s opinions diverged from the Temple’s official line. He had actively partaken in the debates Megatron had found; then again, his shooting schedule had apparently interfered at least one time. Perhaps the Temple simply preferred him to shoot more holovids instead of actively supporting the Temple’s offical line. After all, shooting more holovids that propagated the Temple’s views could also be considered ‘support’.

Prime’s smile widened even more. “I would be happy to discuss any questions you might have in frame with you. That would surely take less time and effort than writing essays for you to read, would it not?”

Megatron’s tank dropped. “I guess,” he said faintly, wondering how he was supposed to survive more of Starscream’s teasing, which was certain to follow should he visit Prime again.

A finial twitched. “Did you not enjoy our last discussion?”

“No, I did, I did!” he hastened to assure Prime and the blue optics brightened.

“I did as well, and I would like to do it again. When might you be free?”

Megatron looked up at the building they were passing just now, the big administrative complex of Matrix Studios that housed all of the offices and conference rooms. “I have a few commitments the next deca-cycle,” he hedged. Technically, that was only one commitment, the lecture he had promised to Terminus, but he would need time to prepare for that and his shooting schedule was looking pretty tight. “Perhaps the deca-cycle after?”

That would give him almost fifteen solar cycles to figure out how to impart to Prime that they would both be best off if they kept any such meetings secret from their colleagues at Matrix Studios.

Prime gave the faintest impression of being disappointed. “Yes, of course, if you are engaged. Which date would suit you best?”

Megatron was trying to come up with a reply when Ultra Magnus’ voice sounded behind them. “Optimus! A moment of your time, please?”

They turned to see Ultra Magnus standing in the door, patiently waiting. Prime smiled at Megatron. “You can let me know later. I will be on set as soon as I can.”

“Sure,” Megatron replied, watched him join Ultra Magnus and then high-tailed it to their studio as fast as he could, his processor overclocking in an effort to figure out what to do now. Of course there was no question that he would _love_ to spend another evening like that with Prime. He just did not want everyone else to _know._

Busy with his own thoughts, he almost stumbled and fell when Laserbeak and Ravage suddenly overtook him from behind at the entrance, one zipping over his head, the other slipping through between his legs.

“Laserbeak! Ravage!” he yelled, glad to be able to vent some of his tension. “Watch out, you two!”

Knock Out further down the corridor had jumped out of the way in time and was watching them race towards Soundwave with wide optics. “What the frag is up with them?” he asked no-one in particular, so Megatron only shrugged and came inside, shutting the door. Laserbeak was squeaking and squealing and Ravage was growling in excitement, so obviously _something_ was going on, but Megatron would be slagged if he knew what it was.

“Come on, let’s get this done before Starscream bursts a fuel line,” he said gruffly to Knock Out, who followed him into the kibble room with a deep ex-vent.

“Pray tell, why would I be bursting a fuel line?” Starscream snapped from the first chair, where Breakdown was attaching his kibble. “What have you done now?”

“Good morning to you too.” Megatron raised an optic ridge. “Are your null rays malfunctioning again?”

Because there was little that could put Starscream into a bad mood as quickly as his null rays acting up again. Since they were actually part of his integrated weaponry, he had to properly disable most of the power flow to them so not to hurt whoever he was aiming them at and still create the required sound and light effects. And for some indiscernible reason, some subroutine in his processor stubbornly kept reversing the command and re-enabling the null rays. Having to catch that subroutine every single time Starscream was going to use them drove Knock Out bonkers, which was likely why Breakdown was taking care of it right now, attaching physical blockers and then disguising them. Either way worked, and it was often a toss-up which was going to take less time.

Starscream glared, which was all the answer he needed. Megatron sat down on the second chair. “I haven’t done anything, but I just saw Ultra Magnus taking Prime into the offices, so I’m guessing he’ll be late.”

Starscream groaned and gestured, ignoring Breakdown’s startled “hey!”

“Great! Just great! This is the last scene we need to put the first three episodes together! We’re supposed to deliver them to IBSC by the end of next deca-cycle! I cannot work like that!”

Megatron rolled his optics. “We are exactly on schedule, Starscream. Can you please start panicking when we’re more than a deca-cycle late?”

Starscream sat up and pointed at him, fuming. “Listen here, you -”

“ALPHA TRION HIRED JAZZ TO DIRECT RORO!” Frenzy screamed, bursting through the door as if the building was on fire.

Rumble followed immediately, and was in turn followed by Ravage, Laserbeak and Soundwave. Behind him, Megatron could make out Scrapper and Long Haul, who luckily knew better than to crowd into the kibble room as well.

“What?” he said intelligently and Frenzy clambered up on his lap, his visor bright.

“Ravage and Laserbeak just heard it at the offices! They went by for details about that assignment Ultra Magnus promised them, and Alpha Trion and Optimus and Jazz and Ultra Magnus were all standing around and Alpha Trion was telling Jazz how much he was looking forward to the episodes he’s gonna be directing!” he blurted out, just barely refraining from jumping up and down on Megatron (which, regardless of how much he tolerated from Soundwave’s precious apprentices, would get Frenzy kicked off).

“Jazz?” Starscream repeated, optics wider than Megatron had ever seen them. “You mean Jazz? _The_ Jazz? _The Convoy of Mount Crystal_ -Jazz?”

Soundwave nodded, Laserbeak settling on his shoulder. Starscream gawked at him, intake open. Megatron himself wasn’t faring much better. Every single director Alpha Trion had hired to direct episodes for RoRo had always been a nobody at the start of their career, or a moderately well-known director who happened to be out of work and would thus be willing to agree to Matrix Studios’ contract conditions.

Or, on occasion, mecha who agreed to the conditions because they wanted to be able to say they had worked on RoRo. Still, a lot of possible candidates had refused once Alpha Trion made it clear that he would not break with his principles for their sake.

So how in the pits had he now managed to reel in Jazz? Jazz, who had made himself and Optimus Prime famous by casting the relatively unknown warframe as the lead in the tragic classic _The Convoy of Mount Crystal,_ and then gone on to direct other masterpieces like _A Toy’s Habsuite, Pride & Predacons_ and several of the most famous Shakesparkian comedies?

Big as Megatron’s attachment to RoRo was, Cliffjumper and Tailgate’s scripts certainly didn’t present much of a challenge to a director who routinely scandalised and thrilled Iacon’s holovid scene by bringing in Polyhex scriptwriters and shooting holovids like _Glitch_ or _Servoclench._

“That can’t be true,” Starscream managed to get out, looking stunned and confused and hurt, which made Megatron wince in sympathy. Ravage growled and Soundwave spoke up.

“Information: correct. Jazz: will be visiting set later. Soundwave: received confirmation from Ultra Magnus.”

Well, that was – that was – Megatron didn’t know what it was, except so bizarre as to be almost unbelievable.

“How is Alpha Trion paying for them?” Rumble said, sounding extremely confused, which Megatron also sympathised with. “I mean, Jazz!”

They all looked at each other and then Megatron slumped back in his chair, passing a servo over his optics. “I’ll take it up with Alpha Trion,” he said glumly. “At the first opportunity.”

He enjoyed working with Alpha Trion. He prided himself on everything TIWU had accomplished at Matrix Studios. However, if Alpha Trion was going to ignore the principles – not to mention a whole datapad full of agreements between him and TIWU that regulated pay at Matrix Studios –, it was Megatron’s job to approach him for an explanation.

Joy.


	6. Primed Explosions: One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I realise this chapter is a bit shorter than the prior ones, I still hope you enjoy the continuation of this little Cybertronian behind-the-scenes soap opera ^^

The first one to arrive, however, was Prime, who walked into the kibble room with his doughnut bag as if nothing at all was out of order. Thankfully after Soundwave and Megatron had re-established some semblance of normalcy and told everyone to get back to what they were supposed to be doing, because the last thing any of them could want was that Jazz walked onto a set more reminiscent of a sparkling centre at fuelling time than a professional workplace.

And because Knock Out was a glitch and also, at times, only actively using maybe a byte or two of his actual processing power, he immediately squealed, “Are those Ratbat’s red crystal doughnuts? Primus, those are the best treats ever! Where’d you get them from, I thought Ratbat brought his spicy selection tray today?”

Clearly, at least one mech on set had far greater concerns than the news that a Temple-approved director was going to take over directing RoRo. Megatron had no clue where exactly Jazz hailed from (although given the holovids he directed every now and again, he had a slight suspicion Jazz had at least spent time in Polyhex), but he had most definitely been trained at the Iaconian Academy. Even disregarding the fact that it wasn’t entirely fair towards Starscream to confront him with such a famous director as his direct competition, Megatron had more than one issue with that choice.

Prime seemed surprised at Knock Out’s reaction. “I bought them at his shop?” he said, half questioning and tensing up as Knock Out, drawn by greed, suddenly closed the distance between them and stepped way too close. “I was not aware you were fond of them. Would you like one?”

Knock Out put a servo over his spark and the other to his helm and mimicked fainting. “Optimus, you know how to sweep a mech off his pedes! Most perfect being in the universe, how can I express my adoration for you?”

Prime’s optics flickered to Megatron with a clear plea for help. “Thank you?”

“A thousand, three thousand, ten thousand thank-yous!” Knock Out gushed, and promptly relieved Prime of the doughnut bag. “Here, let me store that safely for you.”

Megatron almost snorted with laughter as he watched Prime’s iron control over himself slip for the first time and two finials droop and quiver as his doughnuts were removed from his reach, even as he said, “What – yes, thank you, Knock Out …”

>>I promise he will only eat one of them and make sure none of Soundwave’s terrors get to them<< he commed quickly. >>Regardless of what it looks like, Knock Out does not steal other people’s treats. Although he might charm them into giving them up to him<<

Prime was still busy watching Knock Out rustle with the bag and opening a cupboard at the back of the room that usually stayed closed, and did not seem to know how to react.

>>Prime?<<

“Here we go, one for you, one for me once I’m done kitting you out!” Knock Out whirled back around, beaming, two plates with one doughnut each in his servos. He gently set them down on the counter and gestured to the unoccupied chair. “Sit down, Optimus, make yourself comfortable! I’ll start with your smokestacks so you can eat it before I do your helmcrest, okay?”

Prime sank down and Megatron heard Breakdown huff to himself.

>>Figured out how to stop him flirting with Prime yet?<< he commed and Breakdown’s engine grumbled quietly.

>>If I had, he wouldn’t still be doing it! And that’s not even proper flirting, that’s just – Knock Out being Knock Out<<

>>Well, he is certainly living up to his designation as far as Prime is concerned<<

Breakdown’s field, close enough to Megatron since he was doing his claws, fluctuated with waves of suppressed annoyance. >>Sometimes he simply doesn’t _think_. Prime’s an introvert. He usually knows better than to be like that with mecha like that<<

Megatron startled. An introvert? Reserved, yes, certainly, but an introvert?

>>He’s a Prime. He’s hardly unused to attention<< he pointed out and saw Breakdown roll his optics.

>>Being an introvert doesn’t protect you from being the centre of attention. Primus, Megatron. Of course he’s used to attention, that’s why he can deal with most of what others throw at him, but he’s still an introvert at spark. How come you haven’t figured that out?<<

Megatron thought of the calm, minimalistic apartment, their conversations up until now, felt his core heat and decided that prudence was the better part of valour, and he did not need to answer that question. Breakdown rolled his optics at him again, yet thankfully left him alone. Which was good, because he finally got a reply from Prime.

>>I do not wish to be impolite -<<

Megatron turned his helm to him. Prime was staring at him, optics still beseeching. >>I do certainly not mind sharing if Knock Out enjoys the doughnuts -<<

>>But actually, you do mind sharing?>>

Prime looked away for a moment, perhaps embarrassed.

>>You bought them, Prime, they’re yours. Knock Out won’t touch a crumb more than you offer to him. And I can have a word with him on the subject of trying to finagle more out of you, if you like<<

Prime ex-vented quietly where he sat, Knock Out thankfully busy and fully engrossed in attaching the additional smokestack parts. >>I should ask him to return them myself<<

Megatron grudingly shot a comm off to Breakdown. >>Alright, you were right. He _is_ an introvert<<

To Prime, he commed, >>Don’t overclock, Knock Out takes some getting used to. He means no harm, though. He took that bag because red crystal doughnuts go off really quickly, and there’s a cooling unit in that cupboard. Technically they use it for keeping some of the paints at the right temperature, but it’ll also keep your doughnuts fresh until you go home later<<

He could see how the warframe relaxed minutely. >>Oh. I did not know that. I only bought a big bag today because I am expecting visitors later. I usually only buy one or two at a time<<

Try as hard as he might, Megatron could not stop his spark from spinning a little faster at the little, grateful smile he was being given and those finials returning to a more upright position. The whole situation reminded him of back when he had been dating First Aid. Well. When First Aid _thought_ they were dating and Megatron was too inexperienced and too used to the straightforward Kaonian approach to pick up on the fact that what they were doing was considered dating in Iacon. He had originally approached the new medic at the studio’s medical centre because he was so cheerful and outgoing and seemed much more willing to answer Megatron’s questions about Iacon and the mecha who lived there, and what it all was like. He had never stopped to consider that First Aid’s Iaconian background would result in the mech thinking Megatron was expressing a romantic interest in him. He had only figured that out after it was already too late and First Aid, sobbing, had kicked Megatron out of his apartment.

He needed to get this straight with Prime. Before something similar happened again, and Megatron did something else he would regret later.

>>Well, that’s what colleagues are for<< he commed, trying to ignore how his tank felt a little leaden. >>To provide local guide services<<

Primus, he hoped that was clear enough. He couldn’t just come straight out and tell Prime that nothing was going to happen between them, not until he actively expressed an interest (after all, if Megatron was wrong about there perhaps being something else than professional interest involved, he did not want to make a fool of himself). What he could, and would, do was to make it clear that he thought of them as colleagues only, nothing more, nothing less.

>>You are proving to be quite adept at it<< Prime smiled at him, and then Knock Out, thankfully, said, “Lie back for me, Optimus” and Breakdown stepped back and said, “Paint booth for you, Megatron”, and Megatron could get away by returning a simple >>thank you<<, because having to hold still while Breakdown sprayed him provided sufficient reason to stop the conversation.

And since he proceeded to the set without waiting for Prime to be sprayed, where he promptly got roped into keeping Rumble and Frenzy in check, who were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the prospect of seeing Jazz in the metal, he also had a good excuse not to talk to Prime when he arrived. Although Starscream was admittedly also doing a great job at keeping him distracted, wings fluttering nervously.

Megatron had just wandered over and told Starscream to have his null rays looked at again – while at the same time comming him to tell him that Prime probably knew what Starscream expected today given he was repeating it for the fourth time – when they could hear the studio door opening.

Starscream’s optics widened almost comically and he shot off in the direction of the kibble room, leaving Prime and Megatron alone.

“Is Starscream alright?” Prime asked quietly, a tiny frown visible on his face. “He seems a bit out of sorts.”

The door to the corridor opened and Jazz stepped inside, Ultra Magnus on his heels. Megatron watched, stunned, as the smaller mech hurried towards them with a bright smile. “Optimus, ma mech! Aren’t you a sight for sore optics! C’mon, say hello!”

Without further ado, he wrapped his arms around Prime, treating him to a crushing hug.

Which Prime appeared to have absolutely no problem with, although Megatron did notice that he only placed one servo on a shoulder. His voice was warm, though, when he greeted their new director. “I seem to recall we already said hello earlier?”

Jazz let go of him and grinned brightly. “Humour me, OP, I ain’t seen ya in stellar cycles; I got some catchin’ up to do! What’s a mech to do if ya make it so difficult? If the Prime ain’t comin’ to ya, ya gotta go to the Prime, so that’s what I’m doin’!”

Optimus Prime chuckled and Megatron could not help but stare for a moment in surprise. That was the first time he had heard him do that. “I do believe I don’t carry that much resemblance to a mountain.”

Jazz’ grin grew wider as he patted Prime’s arm. “Well, ya do smile every once a vorn.” He whirled around and Megatron was treated to the sight of a bright visor up close. “Right-o! Megatron, right? Pleasure to meet ya! Designation’s Jazz, I’m gonna be directing.”

“Likewise.” Or not. Megatron was deeply suspicious of this mech. Honestly, he had just hugged Optimus Prime. _Hugged. Optimus Prime._

Ultra Magnus cleared his intake. “Optimus, I trust you can introduce Jazz to everyone? Alpha Trion needs to be in a meeting in thirteen kliks.”

“We’ll be fine, Magnus, no need to overclock.” Jazz flashed a grin at him and Ultra Magnus looked doubtful. Megatron could just imagine why. However, his duty towards Alpha Trion, as usual, superseded any concern he might be harbouring concerning their new director and the RoRo-crew. A last nod, then he was walking back out of the studio, leaving the three of them alone.

Jazz put a servo on Prime’s wrist guard. “Hit me with it, Optimus. Who of these amazing mecha is who?”

Giggles behind Megatron’s back informed him that Rumble and Frenzy were definitely approving of the new arrival so far. Prime smiled a little as he beckoned them to join. “Jazz, meet Rumble and Frenzy. They are our soundmecha and work directly with Ravage and Soundwave.”

“You’re smaller than we thought,” Rumble said, looking up at their new director and Megatron groaned internally. This was shaping up to be a great first impression.

“Rumble: will pick up right microphone. Frenzy: assigned to help Ravage.”

Thank Primus for Soundwave. He stepped closer, unflappable as usual, voice monotone. Jazz’ visor brightened again. “No need to introduce this one, OP, I can guess. Soundwave, right? I gotta tell ya, I’ve been wanting to have a chat with ya for ages.”

Prime tilted his helm down and Megatron caught the smile he was attempting to hide. He cocked an optic ridge in surprise as Soundwave inclined his helm to their new director. “Soundwave: rates Jazz’ directing highly.”

Both optic ridges shot up as Megatron stared at Soundwave. Alright, this was – unexpected. Soundwave was usually not the effusive type.

“However: editing skills need work,” Soundwave added and Jazz threw back his helm and laughed out loud.

“Here we go, here we go!” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less from the best editor in the industry.”

Prime’s finials twitched minutely and Megatron wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as Megatron did while their co-workers (and friends) flaunted each and every rule of polite first interaction in favour of – yes well, what were they actually doing? Megatron didn’t have the first clue what this was, except that this was impolite even by Kaon standards. He would have to do something to salvage the situation, and preferably soon, only he had no idea what.

Nor, he suspected, did Prime.

“Jazz: already knew Soundwave’s opinion.” Soundwave anyway did not give either of them a chance to intervene. “Reply to opinion piece: very distinctly Jazz.”

“Opinion piece?” Prime said, now clearly confused as he looked from Jazz to Soundwave and back. “Do you know each other?”

“Not in frame.” Jazz tipped his helm at Soundwave. “We may have had a rather heated discussion about ma edit of _The Image Capture of Silverspray_ on the grid a while ago.”

“That was _you?”_ Megatron exclaimed, unintentionally chorusing with Prime as he said the exact same.

It got them a bright flash of two visors, which Megatron knew in Soundwave’s case indicated amusement.

Apparently that went for Jazz as well. “I see we both told a good friend, eh? Really enjoyed that discussion, Soundwave. Would love to get back to it at some point.”

Soundwave inclined his helm and ignored Megatron half-glaring at him as well as Rumble and Frenzy, still present despite their orders, giggling with glee. They had apparently known. Megatron, too, remembered that discussion well, it had kept Soundwave glued to his datapad for groons. However, _somehow_ Megatron seemed to have missed the piece of information that Soundwave knew he was quarrelling with the director himself about his work instead of another random fan.

At least he wasn’t the only one, judging by the gently reprimanding look Prime was fixing Jazz with.

That was summarily ignored as Jazz gestured at the rest of the set. “So, there’s more than ya four in the credits for the episodes. Where’s the lot of ’em?”

Prime startled ever-so-slightly. “Knock Out and Breakdown will be in the kibble room, where, I believe, Starscream also went just before you arrived.”

He glanced at Megatron and he hurried to say, “The Constructicons’ll be on the outside set prepping it for the second shot today. Except Hook, of course, he’ll be either in the set room or not here at all.”

“Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw: at outside set as well determining lighting conditions,” Soundwave put in and Jazz nodded.

“Right-o, won’t get in their way then. Anyhoo, I’d love to meet ma co-director. Any idea when he’ll be done in the kibble room?”

“About now,” Starscream said coldly and everyone except Soundwave and Jazz startled, not having noticed him as he crept up. “My apologies for the delay, everyone, we can start shooting now.”

“Director Starscream.” Jazz flashed a smile at him. “Good to meet ya. Lookin’ forward to working with ya.”

“Of course,” Starscream said glibly, striding to stand beside Megatron. “I’m sure it will be our pleasure to have you here.”

Megatron caught Prime’s optics half by accident and recognised the helpless expression in there as a mirror of his own feelings.

Jazz had to notice the faint hostility in Starscream’s tone, yet his smile did not waver, nor did his relaxed pose.

“Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure. And I was thinkin’, since we’re gonna start working with each other real soon, what about a little get-together, just to get a chance for a chat? Alpha Trion told me you’re gonna have a crew screening for the first three episodes before they air?”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied and Megatron inwardly shook his helm at him even as his risk evaluation was already running trying to determine how to best keep Starscream from snarking at Jazz the whole time during the screening. He only hoped Soundwave wasn’t expecting his uncharacteristic talkativeness to go unnoticed by the rest of the crew. Even Prime was looking at him with a faintly surprised air by now, and he hadn’t even known Soundwave half a stellar cycle ago.

“Well, how ’bout we have that screening at ma place?” Jazz treated them to a blinding grin. “Ma screening room ain’t as big as the one here, but it’s got nicer seats.”

Megatron reset his optics. Starscream scowled. “That is a very kind offer,” Megatron said carefully, preparing a polite refusal only to be interrupted by Frenzy yelling, “YES!”

Rumble, of course, immediately backed him up. “We wanna see your place! Is it in Iacon?”

Jazz grinned. “Nah, it’s just round the corner. Inherited it from ma creator. Nice ’n’ quiet.”

Starscream’s scowl deepend. “How very fortunate you are, to inherit a house in Kaon.”

Jazz shrugged, apparently not bothered by the snappish tone. “Ma creator loved it here. Always wanted to move here for good, never got round to it. Couldn’t bear to sell the place.”

Starscream scoffed and Megatron, not intent on their working relationship starting with a fight, intervened. “Thank you, Director Jazz, we appreciate your offer” he said stiffly. “The screening was scheduled seven solar cycles from now, though, that is perhaps rather short notice.”

Jazz flashed him another easy grin again, but Megatron was not fooled. There was steel behind that grin. “Won’t be an issue, trust me, I‘ve put together bigger parties in less time.”

“Perhaps it might be a good idea to ask what the rest of the crew would prefer?” Prime put in, and Megatron did not miss how he half-raised one optic ridge at Jazz.

Who promptly relented. “Sure. Ya lot have a crew frequency?”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave said before Megatron could decide what to say. “Soundwave: will put matter up for discussion. Will let Jazz know outcome by tomorrow evening if Jazz provides grid address.”

Frenzy giggled and elbowed Rumble, who looked thrilled. Starscream glared at them.

“Sure,” Jazz said. “’M lookin’ forward to gettin’ ta know y’all better. This’ll be great fun.”

“You say that about every holovid you shoot,” Prime said mildly, immediately picking up on the opportunity to change topics. “I remember you repeating it particularly frequently while you were shooting _Glitch.”_

Megatron raised an optic ridge and Starscream stopped scowling for a moment to instead look flummoxed. “Shooting _Glitch_ was _fun?”_

“Great fun.” Jazz chuckled. “Loved it. Loved the prospect of seeing the look on the faces of some of the Temple mecha when they watched it for the first time. Vector Sigma, was I right ’bout that! Priceless!”

“If that is your measure of how much fun shooting a holovid will be, I am afraid RoRo will fall short of your expectations,” Starscream said, his tone clipped. “The Temple rarely takes notice of it, unless of course we dare include another of their precious artefacts. Now, if you would excuse us, we do have a scene to shoot today and a deadline to meet, and we have already lost half a groon of our allocated time. Megatron, Optimus.”

“I will see you later, Jazz,” Prime said, something passing between the two mecha that Megatron could not quite put his digit on. He could not say whether Jazz accepted his dismissal at Starscream’s servos so easily because of that, or whether he simply did respect the fact that today, this set was Starscream’s, but he simply nodded at them all and said, “Sure, I’ll see ya later. Have productive day-cycle, everyone.”

Megatron heaved a silent vent of relief. It seemed he was acquiring quite a few serious problems to figure out at present.

On the bright side, arranging a meeting with Alpha Trion and trying to keep Starscream from murdering their new director at the first opportunity would at least take his processor off Optimus Prime. And if Megatron was particularly lucky, Starscream would be too busy putting together the three first episodes to plot much regarding their potential screening location.

* * *

Usually, Megatron enjoyed having more-or-less free day-cycles between the end of shooting one story-arc and starting on the next. Not least because he generally had their habsuite to himself on those day-cycles seeing as Soundwave, his gaggle and Starscream were holed up in the editing room putting everything together. If Starscream had not directed the episode(s) in question, he tended to leave for Vos the moment he could, so it was only Soundwave and Megatron anyway.

This time, Megatron found himself caught between an enraged Starscream and an unrelenting Soundwave, which was not a position he enjoyed. Because of course Starscream immediately took offence at the fact that Soundwave had actually gone through with his promise and put the screening location question up for discussion. And of course, curiosity had triumphed, so they were all set to watch the first three episodes at the house Jazz owned in Kaon at the end of the deca-cycle.

Megatron did honestly not know what to make of the fact that Jazz had a connection to Kaon of all places. He was the most un-Kaonian mech Megatron had ever met.

The vote did not put Starscream in a better mood, and Megatron was honestly relieved when Ultra Magnus pinged him at short notice, asking if he could be at the studio in ten kliks, Alpha Trion’s vid conference had been cancelled. Because that meant that Megatron had an excuse to escape Starscream’s rant that he had actually stayed behind to deliver after Soundwave had left for the studio.

If Starscream and Soundwave didn’t figure this out, Megatron might actually have to stage an intervention.

Wouldn’t that be fun.

Ultra Magnus waved him right through, busy with at least five datapads at once, and Megatron stepped through the open door into Alpha Trion’s office, bracing himself for the conversation he was about to have.

“Megatron! Thank you for coming by at such short notice. I have to say, it is fortunate that you made an appointment! I have to tell you, I am _very_ concerned about your suggestion at implementing a process to report on-set harassment. Has something like that happened lately?”

Alpha Trion did indeed look very flustered.

Megatron, very tense considering the delicate subject he was going to bring up, startled. He had honestly already forgotten that they had even submitted in that suggestion in their latest TIWU report to Alpha Trion. To be fair, they had submitted it before they had started shooting, and Megatron had been rather preoccupied since then. Apparently Alpha Trion had only now found the time to review it.

“Not recently, no,” he replied, taking the chair in front of Alpha Trion’s desk, glad that he didn’t have to ask the difficult questions at once. “It has happened in the past, though, and I recently heard of four separate incidents on Tarnian and Iaconian sets. So far, we’ve always dealt with it in our fashion -” in other words, some of the bigger mecha from the studio teamed up on the perpetrator and issued a very detailed warning consisting of what would happen should they not rethink their attitude, “- but Starscream rightly pointed out that the Tarnians usually handle things the same way as we do, and in these two cases, the mecha in question didn’t have any friends on set who could step in. Soundwave then suggested that there should be someone such mecha can talk to on every set. He’s concerned for Ravage and Laserbeak.”

Who were going to be on loan to a Tarnian director Alpha Trion was acquainted with after they finished shooting the RoRo season. Not that this rule would do either Ravage or Laserbeak any good while they were on the Tarnian set. Megatron could see the benefits for Matrix Studios to have something like that in place, though. He didn’t think that they really had an issue with on-set harassment, but it would be a good trial run in any case. Someone like First Aid would make a perfect confidence mech – he was already a medic, confidentiality was part of his job, and while he had lived in Kaon for several vorns now, he was Iaconian in origin. The TIWU committee expected that most complaints would come from Iaconians who felt mistreated by the Kaonite crews; he had full confidence in First Aid’s ability to provide enough background information to whoever was looking for help, though. Much like he was doing for Prime at present.

Alpha Trion nodded, making notes on a separate datapad, apparently reassured by the knowledge that the issue wasn’t pressing. “We will need to figure out the details, of course, amongst other things who might qualify for such a role.” He put the datapad to the side. “So. What did you want to see me about?” He folded his servos and smiled at him and Megatron wished he didn’t have to do this.

“I need to know how much Optimus Prime and Jazz are being paid, and where the shanix are coming from,” he said, almost cringing with discomfort. He had never, not since the first time TIWU had decided to look into the wage gaps, asked about a single mech’s income, and he hated it.

Alpha Trion reset his optics at him. “You want to know how much Optimus and Jazz are being paid? I would think you of all mecha in this studio would know best what our rates of pay for actors and directors are.”

Megatron stared at him, trying to process the words. Alpha Trion frowned. “Megatron, I have signed a contract with TIWU on the subject. Surely you do not think that I would ignore it?”

“But – Prime – I mean, Prime is a Prime!” Megatron blurted out, his processor reeling. Alpha Trion raised an optic ridge, amused.

“Yes, Megatron, I am well aware. I was on the committee that decided to appoint him as Prime.”

Megatron gestured. “And Jazz is – well, Jazz!”

“And I would not have employed him had he not agreed to accept the rate of pay Matrix Studios was offering him.” Alpha Trion’s voice held steel, gentle as it was. “Megatron, I have to admit I am somewhat disappointed that you would think me capable of breaking my promises to my employees.”

This was even worse than what Megatron had expected. “It was not so much doubting you,” he said, trying his best to look at Alpha Trion in the optics. “I mean, I didn’t think – I didn’t think you were paying any of us any less because of them, but they’re Iaconians and they’re – why would mecha like them work on something like RoRo? There’s nothing in it for them, except perhaps shanix!”

Alpha Trion looked a little sad. “Is it so difficult to believe that an Iaconian Prime and a famous director might wish to work on something that does not pay much, but that they derive personal satisfaction from? I assure you, while it was me who approached them in the first place, neither of them even asked to be paid anything but what Matrix Studios pays their colleagues.”

Megatron could not find anything to say, unless he wanted to admit to feeling almost as stupid as when he had realised he had unwittingly led First Aid to believe he was romantically interested in him. Alpha Trion ex-vented. “Although I admit this is the first time we have actually managed to contract a Prime to Matrix Studios.” His mouth quirked. “Not that it was difficult to convince Optimus, mind you.”

“Because you used his former designation for the hero of your most popular series?” Megatron said, and then felt bad that it came out almost like an accusation. If Prime himself had no issue with Alpha Trion using his former designation, what right did Megatron have to take offence?

Surprisingly, Alpha Trion only chuckled and leant back in his chair. “As a matter of fact, that was probably the least important factor. If you know I used his old designation, I can probably assume that you also know that I encouraged him to enter the Academy?”

Megatron nodded. Alpha Trion smiled warmly at him. “Optimus has always wanted to work for Matrix Studios. He would have applied for the Academy in Kaon had I not dissuaded him from doing so, and his explicit goal was to become a sparkling series actor.”

Megatron tried not to gawk and failed spectacularly. “But – why has he never worked for Matrix before, then?”

Alpha Trion inclined his helm. “There are a few reasons, and some of them are private and you will have to ask Optimus yourself about them. Again, however, I have to confess to some responsibility for him making a career in Iacon to begin with. I am sure you agree that he is a splendid actor, and you know as well how hard and almost impossible it is to get into the Iaconian studios once one’s designation is firmly connected with the sparkling holovid business. Sentinel, for all that I was very much disappointed in him when he decided to leave, has worked very hard for just the chance to audition for a Fluxworks production.”

He held up a servo as Megatron made to protest. “I know you have worked at least as hard and have still only been offered to play the villain, and you know that I agree it isn’t right. Still, whatever can be said about him, Sentinel has not been idle and he has not been lazy. It was me who convinced Optimus to give up his beloved Hall of Records and try his servo at acting, a much less secure career path. I would have been a very negligent mentor indeed if I had not also counselled him in such a way that his talents had time and opportunity to fully unfold. Therefore, I promised him that he could have any role he liked at Matrix Studios once he held the title of Prime.”

Megatron cleared his intake, stunned. “I – he has not mentioned it. At all.”

Alpha Trion smiled a little. “Optimus, for some reason, does not consider himself to be a very interesting mech. One of the few topics he and I, and I am certain you too, disagree on.”

“Uhm,” Megatron said, not sure how to respond, and Alpha Trion cocked an optic ridge.

“No? You think him boring?”

“No!” Megatron protested immediately, then felt himself heating up at the violent reaction. Alpha Trion’s smile widened.

“I am glad to hear it, for I believe you and Optimus complement each other very well.”

Primus below. Was Alpha Trion _also_ in on that? Was even his employer trying to hook Megatron up with Optimus Prime?

“How do you mean?” he asked stiffly, because honestly, that went too far. Megatron respected Alpha Trion, more than many other mecha, but that was out of line.

Alpha Trion continued smiling. “You need someone to play opposite you who challenges you, Megatron. I have long since noticed that you only truly throw yourself into a role when there is at least one other actor around who puts as much effort into their role as you do. Now, Starscream and Soundwave take their roles seriously, there can be no doubt about that, but Starscream is a director first and Soundwave’s real talents, as we both know, lie in editing. If Spymaster wasn’t so popular with our audience, I would long since have had Cliffjumper and Tailgate write him out of the series. You and Sentinel always were at odds with each other, and that provided some challenge for you, because you had no intention to let him surpass you. But it still wasn’t quite _right,_ if you know what I mean. Sentinel challenged you on a political level, so to speak, not as an actor playing opposite you. From what I have seen so far of the episodes, Optimus does.”

There was absolutely no way Megatron was going to argue against that, because Vector Sigma, Alpha Trion was spot-on with that.

So he agreed. “He is a very good actor, and playing opposite him is – refreshing.”

Alpha Trion beamed. “That is good to hear. I have been hoping this would happen.”

Megatron’s plating, which had flared out a little in offence, smoothed back down.

“I have big hopes for the two of you, Megatron,” Alpha Trion added, and by the look on his face, Megatron knew the old mech had probably already several ideas for other series in which he could use them. “Please try to give Optimus, and Jazz as well, the benefit of the doubt. I know Matrix Studios’ track record with Iaconians is not the best, and that the RoRo-crew in particular has encountered a few very bad examples. Optimus and Jazz, however, want to work for us and want to work on RoRo, I can assure you of that. If the three of you work well as a team, I can think of one or two other projects that I would like to give a shot.”

A stab of bad conscience went through Megatron, and he cleared his intake. “What about Starscream? Will he lose his directing position on RoRo if you like Jazz’ work?”

Alpha Trion ex-vented. “I am afraid that is a possibility, yes. Before you start protesting, though, let me tell you that I have a project in mind that I would like Starscream to be fully responsible for.” His mouth quirked. “A project including three seeker sparklings.”

Primus, Starscream would probably _murder_ for something like that.

“You planned this,” Megatron accused the old mech without much heat in his voice. Alpha Trion laughed.

“I run a business, Megatron. A business I am hoping, one cycle, to be able to put in the care of a mech I can trust to continue my work. You and everyone else at Matrix Studios would have to be concerned about your future if I did not know at this point in time where I want Matrix Studios to be in a vorn. Now. Is there anything else we need to talk about? Not that I want to cut this short, but Ultra Magnus has just sent a reminder that I have a meeting with some businessmecha from Vos coming up.”

Megatron stood. “Thank you for your time, Alpha Trion.”

He received a genuine smile. “Thank you for your work, Megatron. Please give my best to everyone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you would like to ask questions/talk about stuff about this fic/Transformers that you do not want to post in the comments below, you can find me on discord aellisif#7754 or use the e-mail address in my profile :-)


	7. Primed Explosions: Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would have thought? A new chapter!  
> I am very excited, since I have actually been waiting to get this back from my beta for several weeks now as well ^^ So please enjoy, everyone, and heed the slight warning for colourful Cybertronian curses and drama!
> 
> Oh – and I almost forgot, if anyone wants to know the opening and closing theme of each chapter, I have decided that the Red Hot Chilli Pipers version of “Wake me up” makes a perfect theme song … XD

One would have thought this bit of news would have helped Starscream’s mood. It certainly increased respect and appreciation for their new colleagues as far as the rest of the crew were concerned, if Megatron interpreted the flood of comments on the crew frequency correctly.

Starscream only glared at him and then stalked off to his room, leaving Megatron and Soundwave to stare at his back in silence.

“I’m not sure how annoyed at you I am,” Megatron commented idly, returning to his datapad and the message from Tailgate and Cliffjumper. Soundwave was expectantly quiet and Megatron narrowed his optics at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Jazz?”

“Soundwave: recognised Jazz on account of characteristic glyph patterns used in discussion. Jazz: was using pseudonym. Soundwave: would have been rude to reveal his real designation to other mecha partaking in discussion,” Soundwave replied, unperturbed, and Megatron growled a little.

“Then how come Rumble and Frenzy knew? And I bet the rest of your little terrors did as well.”

Soundwave shrugged. “Rumble: recognised Jazz as well and messaged Soundwave to make him aware.”

Sometimes Megatron honestly forgot that the smaller mecha were actually quite bright in their own right. In his defence, that was mainly because most of the time, they used their ingenuity either for their job (for which Megatron gave them all the credit they deserved) or to annoy the pit out of everyone else (which Megatron was much less impressed by).

He settled for rumbling quietly and frowning down at the message. Not that he didn’t appreciate their scriptwriters asking in advance, but how did he feel about doing air battles with Prime?

“Query: why is Megatron annoyed with Soundwave?”

He looked back up and scowled. “Because Starscream has been complaining about you non-stop since you fraternised with Jazz, and I don’t appreciate being treated to his screeching.”

Soundwave emitted a small ex-vent, which translated to someone else banging their helm against the wall. “Starscream: sometimes sadly unconfrontational. Could have said something,” he commented and Megatron snorted.

“I don’t know about that considering how he has been snapping at you the last few cycles.”

“Starscream: snaps at Soundwave more often than not. Increase in snappiness: only 10%.”

Megatron snorted again, half amused. “In other words, you barely noticed?”

Soundwave’s field transmitted amusement where it brushed against Megatron’s in a fleeting touch. “Starscream: has not clearly stated his issue so far.”

“To you maybe. I have heard my fair share of it.” Megatron frowned and put the datapad aside, deciding that he needed to recharge on the scriptwriters’ questions. “However, since you already made his acquaintance, what do you think made Jazz agree to this? Prime I think I understand if he wanted to become a sparkling holovid actor from the start, but Jazz?”

Soundwave remained quiet for several long kliks. Finally he engaged his speakers again. “Jazz: very secretive and multi-faceted mech. Motivations unclear. Soundwave: hoping to acquire more information during screening.”

Megatron couldn’t quite help the grin at hearing those words. “So there was an ulterior motive for you pushing that issue. Bravo, Soundwave, you had even me fooled.”

Soundwave displayed a grinning smiley. Megatron slipped further down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “Well, perhaps we’ll find out something more once we’ve seen his place. A house like that in Kaon, someone is bound to know something about Jazz’ creator. Perhaps that’ll explain his sudden desire to leave Iacon and work for Matrix.”

Not that it made any sense so far; but with a house big enough for its own screening room, Jazz’ creator had to have been rich. Houses like that did not exactly come by the dozen in Kaon.

Then again, Megatron had lived in Kaon all his functioning and never heard about a rich Iaconian living in a big house.

Truly, those Iaconians all seemed to have their own little secrets. With all of the surprises the current season had already brought about, Megatron would not be surprised to find Bumblebee was Alpha Trion’s secret sparkling by Plane Coasting.

Considering that dedication, they had certainly had more than one opportunity to create one …

* * *

The identity of Jazz’ creator certainly explained the mansion Megatron found himself standing in a few day-cycles later.

What it did _not_ explain was how Gabbro Prime, one of only three femmes so far to ever be awarded the title, had managed to live in Kaon for stellar cycles without all of Kaon knowing she was there.

Jazz sniggered when Rumble blurted the question out of Soundwave’s shadow. “She wasn’t an actress for nothing, ya know? You’d be surprised what a little paint an’ a different accent can do for a femme when she ain’t in the mood to be signing datapads. Now, everyone, the house is yours for the evening – just stay out of my berthroom and washrack and we’re good.”

Megatron was not the only one that boggled at him at that, although Jazz pretended not to notice, instead turning to Prime, who had appeared from somewhere inside the house, evidently having arrived earlier already. “OP, would you mind giving them the tour? I think I can hear the Constructicons arriving.”

“Of course.” Prime inclined his helm and smiled. “The screening room is this way, and Ratbat has delivered a selection of fuels.”

“I don’t fragging believe it!” Megatron heard Starscream mutter as they followed Prime through the corridors, which he was obviously quite familiar with.

Then again, given that Jazz had _hugged_ him in front of everyone upon arriving at the set, Megatron supposed this was hardly the first time Prime had visited the mansion. He had probably also known Jazz was Gabbro Prime’s sparkling. Megatron, on the other servo, had not even know Gabbro Prime had had a sparkling, and that despite her being one of his favourite actors!

It did explain Jazz’ predilection for pulling stunts that reminded Megatron more of a Polyhexian, though; Gabbro Prime had been Polyhexian.

He wondered how many at the Temple knew whose sparkling Jazz was, and was promptly distracted by Starscream scoffing at an old holo of a Gabbro-Prime-holovid. “Sure, why don’t you?” he huffed. “Let it hang out, why not? If you got it, flaunt it!”

Enough was enough.

>>Keep Prime distracted, I need to talk some sense into Starscrem<< he commed. Soundwave pinged back confirmation without even glancing at Megatron, who grabbed Starscream’s arm and unceremoniously dragged him through the next door he could spot.

“What the pit -” Starscream started, temper and plating flaring, and Megatron clapped a servo over his intake, cutting him off. Starscream resisted, but Megatron still remembered how to effectively trap a mech, and he knew Starscream would not dare execute the required maneouvre to throw him off, not in someone else’s mansion.

The room was an elegant salon. Megatron was only able to quickly glance around though before Starscream started pushing enough that he judged it wise to release him before they could accidentally break something tussling.

“What,” hissed Starscream, brushing himself off, optics narrowed to slits, “was that?”

Megatron glared back. “You know exactly what this is about!”

Starscream scoffed. “Do I?”

If Megatron hadn’t had to listen to Starscream complain and snipe and snap ever since the news about Jazz broke, he might have had more sympathy. As matters stood, he very much did not have any patience left for Starscream’s attitude. “If you cannot behave like a professional, go back home and be annoyed there!” he said sharply, irritation bleeding into his field. “I don’t care for being here either, but even I know better than to insult the host’s creator!”

“I haven’t insulted anyone!” Starscream snapped back. “Excuse me if the decor is not to my liking!”

“Dislike it all you want, but keep it to yourself until we’re back home!”

“Oh, like _you_ think it’s good taste to show off one’s creator’s success?” Starscream put his servos on his hips and glared at Megatron, wings rigid and plating flared out. “ _You’re_ the one who makes fun of all those Primes showing off their mansions during those stupid interviews!”

Megatron grit his denta. “And I would tell them to their face if I got the chance, but you have only been complaining non-stop! Have it out with him yourself, or take it to Alpha Trion if you want him gone!”

“Oh, like that would be of any use!” Starscream snarled. “After he’s agreed to working for the pittance we earn? Alpha Trion would have to be mad to let him go!”

Megatron could not, in good conscience, inform Starscream of Alpha Trion’s plans to give him his own seekerling series. This was something Alpha Trion needed to tell Starscream himself, and needed to tell him at the point where preparations had left the drafting table and there was actually a budget and episodes planned out for it. Telling Starscream now would only result in him either dismissing Megatron’s words or ending up horribly disappointed if nothing came of it.

But of course, not telling him would only affirm Starscream’s belief that Alpha Trion was planning to replace him with Jazz. And while having to work with other directors on RoRo had never thrilled Starscream in the past, Megatron could not deny that Jazz was much more of a threat than a director fresh out of one of the Academies with little to no actual experience.

“He would have to be mad to let you go as well!” he therefore snapped back, reasoning that what Starscream was out after was reassurance that he was not going to be out of one job after this season of RoRo had wrapped shooting. “You know bloody well you have fans!”

“Like that is going to help me!” Starscream almost-screeched. “Does that old fool have you wrapped around his digit so much that even you can’t see where this is going?”

Megatron gawked for a moment, then bit out, “Excuse you?”

Starscream’s optics took on a mean gleam that Megatron hadn’t seen in quite a while. He could be mean, to the point of being cruel, but generally expressions of that cruelty were reserved to mecha who really crossed him.

And before Megatron had time to prepare, Starscream took aim and landed a low blow.

“Oh, my apologies, that’s right, he doesn’t even need to try and distract you, does he? His _personal friend_ is doing that for him.”

“Starscream!” Megatron growled and the optics began glowing with vicious glee.

“Did our dear employer pick up on the fact that his star has a crush on the big time actor he just so conveniently happens to be friends with? Think he already told _dear Optimus?_ I’m sure if he put in a good word for you, Prime would go on a date with you. After all, he’s already let you into his washrack, so what’s a little mo-”

Megatron’s servo made a satisfying sound as it collided with Starscream’s helm. Starscream smirked at him, unimpressed by the hit. Ex-military trine leaders could take a lot more impact than that without so much as resetting their optics.

“You’re one to talk, practically kissing the floor underneath his pedes!” Megatron snarled, trying not to lose more control. He knew Starscream was gunning for it now, _wanted_ Megatron to fight him physically. They had known each other for a long time. But Megatron refused to be goaded into a physical fight right here, right now. “You invited him to an oil house, you took him to the editing room!”

Starscream threw back his helm and cackled. “You’re just jealous because you keep putting your pede in your intake every time you talk to him!”

“That is not true!” Megatron hissed. “And even if it were, at least I’m not trying to crawl up his smokestacks for – what even? So he’ll introduce you to other mecha into whose tailpipes you can crawl?”

Starscream’s optics flashed with fury. “Maybe I have goals! Perhaps I have dreams, perhaps I don’t want to spend my whole functioning directing sparkling holovids!” he snapped, obviously offended now as well. “Maybe I haven’t given up on having a proper directing career, like you seem to have given up on ever playing anything but villains in sparkling holovids!”

It stung. It stung far worse because in all those vorns they had known each other, for all that he kept talking about his higher aspirations, Starscream had always stuck with Matrix. Megatron was used to him, used to his directing style, used to having Starscream around. He was their direct link to the industry workers in Vos. If he quit and went to Iacon to pursue his own career, Megatron didn’t quite know how he would be able to maintain contact with the mecha in Vos. Thundercracker and Skywarp were still there, of course, but it wasn’t the same as being served each bit of information with his morning or evening energon, depending on when Starscream talked to his trine.

Starscream was Megatron’s friend, and he was almost as important for TIWU as Megatron and Soundwave themselves. Losing him was – losing him to _Iacon_ of all places was unacceptable.

“If you want out of here so much, why don’t you try your luck with Jazz then?” Megatron almost roared, rage quickly covering hurt. “Or is your pride not going to allow you to suck up to him because he’s another director? One more _famous_ than you?”

The servo hit his face before he had time to prepare and left his cheek stinging slightly.

“Frag you!”

With that, Starscream spun around and stormed out the door that obligingly opened for him, Megatron glaring at his back. His social protocols were pinging him insistently, and his HUD informed him that Starscream’s servo had left a slight dent in his cheek. If they hadn’t been at the stupid screening, Megatron would have stormed out, too, grabbed Starscream and given him a good, thorough shake before transforming and taking it to the skies to burn off their rage.

Even that thought hurt and further fuelled his anger. It had been several stellar cycles that they had had an argument spiralling so much out of control. It wasn’t going to ruin their friendship, Megatron knew that much, because they had been through slag like this before and always managed to fix it, but it certainly wasn’t going to help the process that their cathartic air battle would now have to wait until the screening was over.

Megatron fell back on the same temporary relief that he had learnt to appreciate in the mines.

“Fragging byte-processored, obnoxious, glitched, _arrogant_ result of a blind virus fragging a system malfunction -”

Still cursing Starscream to pit and back in the most colourful language he was capable of, he stepped out of the door -

\- and promptly found himself face-to-face with Optimus Prime, staring at him aghast.

* * *

There was no doubt that Prime had heard every single curse Megatron uttered. The door had still been open, after all, and Megatron was a trained actor – his voice carried.

He stood frozen as blue optics took him in and the expression quickly changed back to neutrality.

“I noticed you and Starscream were missing,” Prime said quietly, his optics falling on Megatron’s dented cheek. He had enough presence of processor to stop himself from reaching up and putting a servo over it; there was no need to confirm Prime’s suspicion that there was a dent to hide. Instead he inclined his helm stiffly.

“My apologies. We needed a moment to ourselves. I hope we haven’t intruded where we should not.”

Prime looked at the door for a split klik. “Jazz meant it when he said the house is yours for the evening. You are free to make use of the salon if you like.”

Megatron stopped himself from moving from pede to pede. “My apologies for not comming you about staying behind.”

Prime inclined his helm and stayed silent. Megatron stared at him, uncomfortably reminded of their first few encounters when Prime had seemed incapable to keep his optics off Megatron. As if he had been waiting for him to – what, crack? Protest his presence?

Megatron did not know, but he did wish Prime would say something or even just start moving in the direction of the screening room. Primus only knew where Starscream was by now; Megatron hoped he had either slipped away to return home or decided to act like a professional. It was not like he couldn’t.

And then Prime suddenly spoke up.

“I do not have much of an opinion of mecha who treat everyone around them with contempt,” he said, his expression still neutral.

It took Megatron by surprise so much that his first reaction was to growl, “You and me both.”

Then the real meaning of Prime’s words hit and Megatron felt his control slipping as his field and expression broadcast just how taken aback he was. “What the – that is not -”

Prime met his gaze, calm and resolved. “I appreciate that your acting skills far outclass most of those around you, including Starscream -”

“Starscream and I _live_ together!” Megatron sputtered, the only defence his processor could come up with, and Prime stopped talking, looking surprised and – dismayed?

“You are conjunxed?”

In retrospect, Megatron would admit that yes, his reaction to that did not speak in his favour. “Primus below, no!” he almost yelled. “I’m not glitched enough for _that!”_

Of course, the only reason he said that was because he _knew_ what Thundercracker and Skywarp would try to do to him if he ever made a move on Starscream, and it kind of proved his point, but in his momentary confusion, he forgot that Prime did not know. A look of profound disappointment appeared on his face. Megatron watched, helpless, still wondering what was going on, and then Prime looked him straight in the optics.

“I have looked forward to working with you ever since I saw _Gladiator,_ and I truly enjoyed our conversations,” he said, quiet sadness in his voice. “But I think it is probably best if we start meeting at the studio if we need to go through the script.”

Prime was siding with Starscream. He was siding with Starscream because he had heard all the unflattering things Megatron had said about Starscream while he believed himself alone, and he was not hesitating to make his opinion known and -

It felt like he had thrown a punch straight into Megatron’s chassis. With fierce determination, he dumped several threads from of his processor, focusing on one goal: Stopping Prime from walking away.

“Prime, stop and let me explain, will you?” he snapped, then immediately softened his voice as he continued talking as quickly as he could before Prime could move too far away. ”Starscream, Soundwave and I have been sharing an apartment for more than five vorns now. And Starscream himself has been conjunxed to two Vosian actors since before we even met. I’m not saying they would offline me if I tried anything, but they would very definitely _not_ be pleased. We’re friends. Not always the best of friends, granted, but we’re still friends. I was angry at him just now, but I thought I was _alone_. What I said was not meant for anyone’s audials.”

Prime halted his steps, but did not turn around. “What?”

Megatron’s spark settled a little. At least Prime wasn’t walking away from him any longer.

“Starscream and I are friends,” he repeated and Prime turned around and gazed at him as if trying to read his spark.

“Then what was that about just now?” he said, voice carefully neutral. Megatron stopped himself from shifting uncomfortably.

“Personal,” he said shortly, having absolutely no desire to divulge what exactly their little spat had been about. “But I can assure you, if Starscream really had an issue with me, he would no doubt poison my evening energon. He has plenty of opportunity to do so, and the other way around as well.”

Prime was still tense. “And do you curse all of your friends like that when you are angry at them?”

Megatron snorted. “Prime, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in Kaon. Mecha around here don’t really stand on ceremony with each other. I can assure you of that as well, the things Starscream is saying about me, probably right now, probably to Rumble and Frenzy, are at least as colourful as what I said. And if we didn’t have to be here, we wouldn’t have bothered with cursing each other at all, we would simply have found a spot of free sky and had it out there.”

There was an unnatural stillness to Prime’s frame. “You would fight about a disagreement?”

“We would _race_ each other so that the winner can get his grievances heard first!” Megatron almost snapped, then forcefully reminded himself once again that Prime was from Iacon, where things were done differently. “I don’t hate Starscream, and Starscream doesn’t hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that he -” insulted the creator of one of Prime’s friends in their own home, that was probably not something he should tell Prime, “- has been very high-strung recently and on edge, and someone needed to remind him that he is a professional.”

There was another moment of silence.

“And you have the right to decide what is professional and what is not?” Prime said, glyphs absolutely neutral. Megatron grit his denta again. Looked like he had no choice but to tell on Starscream.

“I know that scoffing at someone’s creator because you will have to share your job with them is not professional.”

Prime startled minutely. Megatron could see his optics resetting and one finial flicker. “Starscream was insulting Gabbro Prime?”

“Starscream has not shut up about Jazz for a single klik in the last deca-cycle,” Megatron replied, avoiding the question. “You must have noticed he did not like him being hired.”

There was another moment of silence, then Prime relaxed slightly, enough that his frame did not look strangely locked any longer. “I have noticed, yes.”

“I only told him to take it to Alpha Trion instead of complaining or ruining everyone’s evening.”

One finial flickered. “But surely Starscream wouldn’t -”

Megatron could not help but ex-vent in exasperation. “Prime, take it from someone who has known Starscream for a long time – if he is in the right mood, he won’t hesitate to snap and snipe at Jazz until Jazz finally retaliates, and I think we can all do without that kind of drama.”

Another pause, then Prime said, quietly, “I thought those were just rumours.”

Megatron reset his optics. “Rumours?”

Blue optics met his. “Yes, rumours. Your reputation precedes you. You and Starscream, in any case. I have heard numerous stories about the ways either of you intimidate young actors when you don’t like them, and that you consider yourself above the rest of the crew and cast.”

Megatron could do nothing but gawk, not least because this was the first time he heard about himself having a “reputation”. Prime continued, bemused, “I cannot say that I found those rumours to be accurate after meeting you, although I have to admit that the atmosphere on set is certainly is a tad – rough, at times. Yet the crew all appear to genuinely like you, even when you order them around. In my experience, that doesn’t happen with those mecha who genuinely consider themselves above their company.”

Megatron could not help growling at that. “I do not ‘order them around’. Starscream does, but he’s the frigging _director_. It’s kinda in the job description.”

“You do frequently yell at them to get off the set,” Prime noted. “Hook especially.”

Megatron threw his servos up. “You don’t know Hook, Prime! If we let him get on the way he wants to, we’d never be shooting any outdoor scenes! That mech is the most perfectionist glitch that ever functioned! Ask Alpha Trion if you don’t believe me!”

There was another pause during which they stared at each other.

Then Prime gestured towards the salon. “Perhaps we could step inside for a moment.”

Megatron immediately went, field fluctuating wildly with relief. At least Prime was giving him a chance to explain himself.

“Would you like a cube?” Prime stepped up to a wall, looking at Megatron expectantly. He gave a stiff nod, put on edge by the question. Prime opened a cupboard and returned a moment later with two beautifully cut glass crystal cubes containing the kind of midgrade Megatron would indulge himself with after a good review for the latest episode.

He suppressed an ex-vent and accepted it without a word. Prime chose one of the comfortable-looking chairs and sat down, motioning for Megatron to do so as well.

They sipped in silence, the blue optics once more sizing Megatron up.

He took a deep in-vent, put the cube down on a table and folded his servos. “Look, Prime, I don’t know _what_ you may have heard about Starscream and me, neither him nor me think we are better than everybody else at the studio.”

“You said about the Constructicons that there were reasons why they don’t act in front of the camera,” Prime said quietly. “And Starscream has been very – demanding with Bulkhead and Bumblebee.”

Megatron could well imagine, although he hadn’t been present for most of their prepping sessions and only seen them on set. “He does the exact same to Soundwave and me, in case you haven’t noticed. In fact, you are the only one he has been going easy on.”

Prime inclined his helm. “Arcee did say that he seems to harp on you a lot more than on anyone else. But you are an experienced actor. Bulkhead and Bumblebee are not.”

Megatron let the air escape his vents slowly. “I know it doesn’t necessarily come across that way, but Starscream is trying to help them.”

“They know that.”

When nothing more came forth, Megatron met the blue gaze. “Neither you nor I can change Starscream, Prime. He may not be the nicest director around, he is certainly not as easy-going as Jazz appears to be, but he is a good director and he appreciates good, hard work.”

A soft ex-vent. Prime looked down into his cube and said, “Bulkhead and Bumblebee have also heard the rumours. I can tell that Starscream is trying to help both of them, I have experience enough with different directors to know. So does Arcee. But they have spent most of their time in the business hearing about how much Kaonites look down upon Iaconians.”

Megatron could not stop his optics from cycling wide. “ _We_ look down on _them?”_

“That is what mecha in Iacon say. Kaonites don’t respect the Temple and they don’t respect our plays and industry. One just has to look at – the other studio.”

“The other studio?” Megatron repeated and two finials flickered.

“The second Kaonian studio.”

Oh. _That_ studio.

Megatron scoffed. “Just because Iaconians put their amateur porn on the grid instead of using a proper studio doesn’t mean -”

“That is not the problem here,” Prime interrupted, and Megatron thought he could detect faint embarrassment in that oh-so-controlled field. “The problem is that Bulkhead and Bumblebee arrived here already half expecting the mecha at Matrix to hate them despite Alpha Trion’s assurances. They have been raised with the idea that Kaon disrespects Iacon on principle, and that since they are Iaconian, they cannot expect to be given fair treatment here. And the rumours about you and Starscream are not helping matters.”

Megatron was getting a tad fed up with these vague hints at rumours.

“Well, what is it then that Iaconians have to say about Starscream and me?” he demanded, annoyed. “That he’s an obnoxious little glitch with high expectations and more than a little tendency to drive mecha to exhaustion in his quest for the perfect shot? He’s hardly the only director in the industry with that particular problem!”

Prime looked back up. “That he does not appreciate the work his actors do, and regularly asks for the impossible. That he plays favourites on set, particularly with you. That he believes himself to be on par with Jazz and other Temple-approved directors.”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “Starscream always, _always_ tells all of his actors that they’ve done good work.”

“And so do you,” Prime said. “I noticed, Megatron. I also noticed that you are trying to make them comfortable as well, but what neither you nor Starscream seem to realise is that it is – unsettling to watch either of you yell at mecha you have been working with for vorns.”

“How is that their problem?” Megatron demanded, temper flaring. “It’s not like they don’t give as good as they get!”

Prime looked back at his cube. “Perhaps it would not be as much of a problem if there weren’t a variety of rumours about you as well,” he said, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Mostly about how you hate Iaconians and will do everything to mob them from your set, whichever it is. That you will not even stop at pretending to have feelings for a mech and cast them aside after you have berthed them.”

Megatron stared at him, utterly speechless.

Prime looked back up. “I was – not aware of those rumours before I mentioned what Ratchet had said regarding me inviting you. Or -” he vented deeply, “- I was aware, but I had not encountered the particular rumour that you did it on purpose to make mecha quit Matrix Studios.”

“That is a despicable lie.”

The rage was so strong, a white-hot flare driving his core temperature up, that Megatron could not even bother layering his glyphs with it, so his words sounded completely flat and neutral. “I have never, not even once in my functioning, attempted to make any mech fall for me with the purpose of using their feelings against them.”

“I know,” Prime said and brought Megatron up short.

“What?”

Blue optics met his. “I may not have much of an interest in gossip, but I know enough of the world to realise that when mecha come to Kaon with its much laxer morals regarding interfacing, they might be tempted to engage in affairs that other Iaconians may look down upon. I also know enough of how the Iaconian industry works to be quite aware that when returning from Kaon, some mecha may choose to – alter some details regarding their – indiscretions, especially when the other party in question is far away and cannot protest.”

Megatron stared at him. Prime lowered his optics back to his cube and cleared his intake. “You have a reputation as a flirt and a seducer in Iacon, Megatron. An ill-willed, ill-tempered and vengeful one, too.”

Megatron opened his mouth and found himself still at a loss for words while at the same time, he wanted to disappear. Being told what others said about him was bad enough; being told by Optimus Prime was … was …

Prime’s finials drooped a little, and Megatron hated it. “Knowing what I know about the – expectations the Temple has regarding their actors, I had always assumed the rumours were vastly exaggerated. Additionally, I figured the tale was spun in a fashion to make the Iaconian in question appear your hapless victim. I did not believe, nor did Alpha Trion ever give me reason to suspect you would use Iaconians as a springboard, or even just seduce whichever Iaconian you happened to meet.”

“That – I haven’t even considered approaching any of our guest-stars in stellar cycles!” Megatron blurted, processor running hot with the effort of processing all of this. “And I never, ever _used_ anyone!”

“Yes, Knock Out said much the same when I asked him,” Prime replied, one finial flickering before he apparently got it under control and it stopped in a neutral position. “Coming to Kaon and working with you has been very confusing. You are – rough and loud and harsh in many ways, yet you are clearly respected and liked by your crew, and you are always professional where we are concerned, so -” He ex-vented, then looked back up and met Megatron’s half outraged, half stunned gaze. “That Ratchet of all mecha seemed to confirm the rumours I had heard was very much a surprise for me, since I had assumed he would be in a position to know whether they were true.”

“Ratchet -” Megatron began, then broke off and dragged a servo over his optics, not even knowing where to begin describing the mess that had been his friendship with First Aid, and that was his current relationship with Ratchet. “Primus.”

“I assume you had no idea these rumours existed?” Prime almost sounded sympathetic.

“None at all.” Megatron tried to come up with more and found his processor had decided to run reassessments of prior interactions with Iaconian actors. He hated how little things, questions, looks, even smiles, suddenly made so much more and terrible sense. Then a thread popped up, his last conversation with Alpha Trion, and Megatron could not help a bitter chuckle. “If they are so intent on dragging my designation down the smelter, I’m glad to know I’ve just made it possible for every mech and femme that ever thought I stepped on their pedes to get me into trouble,” he said, the words hurting his intake, and Prime reset his optics at him.

“Sorry?”

Megatron gestured. “Alpha Trion will be introducing a new process to enable employees at Matrix Studios to complain about on-set harassment soon. Considering what you just said, I guess I’ll be at the top of the list of mecha others complain about.”

Prime’s optics brightened. “Is that a new TIWU idea?”

Megatron froze, all threads dropping from his processor.

“It sounds like a very good plan,” Prime continued, apparently oblivious to Megatron’s shock. “Although how are you planning to handle a situation where the story is changed after the mech in question has already left Matrix?”

Megatron had no idea. Just like he had no idea at all how to cope with Prime apparently _knowing_ about TIWU. Technically, he didn’t even know why he was so surprised, it was not like TIWU was a secret in the industry. It was just not much talked about in Iacon as far as he had been able to gather, on account of the general contempt most Iaconians held for it.

Fortunately, he was spared any reply by receiving a comm.

>>Query: current location?<<

Before he had time to reply, the door swished open and Jazz sailed inside, smiling brightly. “OP, Megatron! So that’s where you two’ve been hiding? Hope the energon selection was to your taste?”

Prime looked as startled as Megatron felt. Jazz wrapped an arm around his pauldrons and grinned at him. “Sorry I have to interrupt your no doubt riveting discussion of whatever it was you were talking about, but we’re about to start the screening. Unless you prefer to stay?”

Abruptly regaining his bearings, Megatron stood. “No, of course not. My apologies for disappearing. We got side-tracked.”

The visor brightened in a way Megatron could not decipher. “Happens, ma good mech, happens. Keep that cube, doesn’t matter, I’ll bring it back in here later.”

Prime stood as well, battlemask hiding most of his face. “Are you sure?” he asked from behind it, and Jazz patted his forearm guard.

“Positive, OP. Alpha Trion’s been asking about you, too.”

“Yes, of course,” Prime murmured, looking over his pauldron to Megatron as they left the salon, Jazz chattering on about something – Megatron thought it was about Ratbat and energon. His processor was still too tied up to actively listen, so he simply looked back at Prime, not sure how he was supposed to react.

>>I am sorry<<

He stared at the glyphs for a moment, then at Prime, who was now walking beside Jazz and had turned his helm back to the corridor in front of him.

>>What for?<<

>>I should not have told you like this. It was very inconsiderate<<

Megatron suppressed an ex-vent. >>How does one considerately tell someone else that they’re being made to appear like the Unmaker himself?<<

Prime flashed him another look over his pauldron, and Megatron realised how snappish the comm sounded and tried to amend his words. >>I had to find out sooner or later anyway<<

A pause. Megatron could already hear the chatter from a brightly lit room at the end of the corridor. They would be in there in less than a klik, and then there would be no more chances to continue this conversation. He should send another comm, but what should he write?

>>Could we perhaps talk about this at another time?<<

Megatron startled and looked up to meet blue optics.

>>When we have more time and leisure at our disposal<< Prime added, and one finial drooped a little.

Megatron marshalled his threads. >>Yes<<

The battlemask snapped back and he was treated to a tiny smile. >>Thank you<<

* * *

Megatron was decidedly not himself for the rest of the evening, and it was a shame. The first three episodes of the new RoRo-season were possibly some of the best they had ever shot, and properly seeing himself fighting Optimus Prime on screen would usually have excited Megatron to no end.

It was still amazing, and he did manage to focus on watching for the scenes where Megatronus and Orion Pax met each other. He could definitely see a change in how he himself was playing Megatronus – they were electric in a way scenes with Sentinel had never been. The whole dynamic between Orion Pax and Megatronus was different; there was conviction and steely determination in both of them when they met each other, and Megatron got a shiver down his spinal struts when Orion Pax rallied his new team at the end of the second episode.

“Autobots, roll out!” really had a nice ring to it. Tailgate and Cliffjumper had come up with a good line there.

“ _Decepticons, rise up_ still sounds way cooler!” Rumble argued, more or less tumbling into their apartment ahead of Megatron. He grumbled and made sure not to step Frenzy, who likewise pushed his way inside, showing absolutely no concern about being stepped on.

“Yeah, totally!” he agreed, making straight for the big sofa and hopping onto it. Megatron moved further to let Soundwave and Starscream enter as well and Ravage squeezed past, joining Rumble and Frenzy on the sofa. Starscream glared at them, stalking off to the energon preparation area and clattering with cubes. Megatron could only distantly feel relief that contrary to expectations, he had managed to behave himself during the rest of the screening. Although there was a good chance Soundwave’s almost-constant presence by his side was responsible for Starscream’s uncommon restraint.

Which apparently had reached its limit.

“Do they absolutely have to stay over?” Starscream snapped, striding back into the common area and shooting nasty glances at Ravage, Rumble and Frenzy. Predictably, they ignored him. They usually did outside of a set. Soundwave went to the shelves along the wall, reaching for the additional bedding that they kept around for just such occasions. Megatron took it upon himself to remind Starscream of some facts of life.

“Feel free to try and convince them to go home,” he muttered, leaning against the wall and watching the three considerably smaller mecha make themselves comfortable on the much-favoured piece of furniture. Starscream growled at him.

“I shouldn’t have to kick them out! This isn’t their home!”

Megatron ex-vented. He was in no mood to get into a fight with Starscream about something that really was not worth fighting about. “Just leave them be.”

“Why should I?” Starscream crossed his arms, scowling, and Megatron lost patience with him for the second time that evening.

“Because this isn’t your apartment either!” he snapped, and Soundwave’s helm flew up. Starscream’s optics widened. “Forget it! Just go to your room if you don’t want to be around anyone!”

“Wow,” Rumble commented from the sofa, just out of Megatron’s sight behind the back. “What is up with you two?”

Starscream narrowed his optics, tapping a digit on his arm. “That is a good question indeed. I would have thought at least you would be in a better mood after you got to have your little exclusive chat with Prime.”

Megatron’s engine gave an annoyed rev. “How do you -”

“Oh please!” Starscream scoffed. “Long Haul and Bonecrusher saw you and Prime disappear into that salon and lost no time telling everyone else. However, Jazz went to fetch you so soon that nothing much can have happened there. Logically, he must have said something to you that then had you in such a weird mood that you didn’t even properly pay attention to the episodes. I noticed. You were almost out of it for pretty much half of the first episode. _Most of which featured Megatronus.”_

Rumble stuck his helm up over the back of the sofa, grinning. “You suck slag at being inconspicuous!” he said gleefully, then added, “What did Prime say that had your processor all tied up?” before Megatron could even decide how to react.

Frenzy cackled and poked his helm up, too. “Did he _flirt_ with you? You were in that salon long enough for _that!”_

“All alone!” Rumble sounded very excited.

“Prime,” Megatron said without inflection, trying to get a grip on all the emotions that wanted attention again, “kindly informed me that as far as many Iaconians are concerned, Starscream is an arrogant glitch with an over-inflated opinion of his own directing skills.”

“What?” Starscream screeched, optics blazing crimson with rage. His arms fell apart and he instead clenched his servos into fists. “These horrible, slag-sucking nincompoops -”

“As for me,” Megatron continued, ignoring Starscream and still without inflection, “I am apparently the Unmaker’s new incarnation intent on seducing and ripping out the sparks of every Iaconian I ever came across for daring to trespass onto Matrix Studio grounds.”

“Wow,” Rumble said after a short pause, sounding _impressed_ of all things. “For real?”

“Rumble: be silent,” Soundwave said, drifting closer. “Query: what did Prime say precisely?”

“Yes, I would like to know that as well!” Starscream snarled. “What is it the high and mighty Iaconians dislike about us humble non-Iaconians?”

Megatron chose to stare at the big, dark screen. “About you, apparently only that you vastly overestimate your own abilities.” Starscream hissed and Megatron glared at him. “At least they aren’t accusing you of more or less _abusing_ other mecha!”

Starscream stopped glaring and looked flabbergasted. “What?”

Megatron growled. “Well, what do you call it when someone seduces a mech only to later on break their spark? Which I, apparently, do on a regular basis, and only and exclusively to Iaconians.”

Starscream looked appalled. “That thing with First Aid was a _misunderstanding_. Everyone knows that. The only one who still insists it was your fault is Ratchet.”

Megatron tiredly rubbed his helm. “The rumours aren’t about First Aid. Apparently it is fashionable for Iaconians who have fragged me to return to Iacon and pretend they fell victim to my ‘seductive charms’ or whatever. Basically, all blame on them not conforming to Iaconian expectations is put on me. I seduced them, I was the one who initiated interface, I was the one who pretended to have feelings so they would agree to interface and they fell for it. In short, it’s all my fault.”

Starscream snorted derisively. “‘Charms’? You? Puh-lease! Your approach to flirting is to walk up to a mech and tell them they can spike you if they feel so inclined.”

Rumble disappeared for a moment, resurfaced and threw a sofa cushion at Starscream. “That’s not true!”

Megatron felt too drained to protest himself, but he appreciated Rumble’s defence, even if Starscream only scowled more and snapped, “You have to admit it’s not far off!”

“He doesn’t say _that!”_ Frenzy jumped in and they were off. Megatron ex-vented and sat down on the sofa as well. A moment later it dipped and Soundwave’s field brushed his, transmitting affection.

“Did you know about this?” Megatron asked, dreading and needing the answer in equal measure. Soundwave met his gaze.

“Soundwave: has occasionally seen references to Megatron’s berth skills,” he said hesitantly. “Other rumours: never mentioned. Suggestion: rumours only spread off the grid, not on it, or in closed groups.”

It made sense. After all, Megatron knew from his few stints in Iacon that set gossip usually ran rampant there. It was perfectly conceivable that no-one would bother putting these accusations on the grid, _especially_ because that would give Megatron the opportunity to find and contradict the stories.

“They would do that, those cowards!” Starscream half-screeched, perfectly able to follow two conversations at once. Rumble crawled onto Megatron’s leg, slumping forward against him and wrapping his arms around what he could reach of Megatron’s chassis. It was not much.

“Don’t listen to anything they say! _We_ know you’re not like that!”

Ravage, too, draped himself over his other leg, engine emanating a soothing purr. Megatron put a hand on his helm and huffed, and then Frenzy also cuddled up to him from the side. Standing, he just about reached Megatron’s audial. “Yeah, don’t listen to them. They’re slag-heads and cowards, like Starscream says!”

Megatron ex-vented once more, shuttering his optics. “It is not that easy. These rumours can damage everything we have been working for all these vorns. Prime also told me that because of these rumours, at least Bulkhead and Bumblebee don’t trust Starscream and me. That they think we will treat them badly because they’re Iaconians.” He hesitated and caught Starscream’s gaze. “He heard us fighting and concluded that we hate each other.”

Starscream gawked back, then gave a shrill giggle. “We. Hate each other? That is preposterous!”

Megatron ex-vented again, petting Ravage. “Apparently the way we interact on set has convinced them that we don’t even respect each other, much less Iaconians.”

Frenzy looked up at him, clearly confused. “What’s wrong with how we act on set?”

Starscream snarled, throwing up his servos. “Oh, for – don’t tell me it’s because we _yell_ every now and then!”

Megatron said nothing and Starscream’s optics blazed crimson again. “That is equally ridiculous! Primus below, how prim and proper are they that they can’t tell this isn’t serious? Was none of them ever in the military?”

“Fact: most Iaconians not war- or flightframes. Probability for having been in the military: low,” Soundwave spoke up and Starscream hissed.

“Unmaker-spawned byte-processored glitches! Can’t they tell we don’t hate each other? One would think it’s quite obvious! _I_ certainly wouldn’t stand for being insulted for real by these mini-mecha! I could just step on them!”

“Hey!” Rumble huffed and Starscream rolled his optics at him.

“Oh, don’t even _start!”_

Megatron intervened before another fight could ensue by patting Rumble and saying, “I’m told it is confusing to watch our interactions. And apparently, it is even more confusing that we do not yell at and insult them.”

“I certainly _can_ -”

“Starscream!” Megatron was so, so tired. “They don’t get it, alright? They don’t get that this works for us, because in Iacon, they do things differently. I don’t quite know how they do things there, but we all know that Iaconians don’t understand Kaonian customs. And that, coupled with those rumours, is apparently putting all of them on edge, even Prime, even when he believes Alpha Trion when he says we’re a good team.”

Silence fell after he had summed up their current situation. Then Rumble spoke up. “Well … then you have to show them we’re not that bad. That it’s all in good fun. I mean – there are Iaconians around who we clearly don’t hate. Why would they stay at Matrix if we made their functioning pit?”

Megatron ex-vented again. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

“Soundwave: suggests Megatron contact Optimus Prime and makes further inquiries. Counteraction: only possible if precise knowledge of rumours available.”

Megatron looked at his best friend, felt the soft pulse of affection in the unobtrusive field and nodded. “Yes. I know. I will talk to him again. Just – not right away.”

Starscream crossed his arms, scowling again. “And he had better have a few answers for you! Byte-processored lying glitches!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @UnknownXeno: My apologies for copying that nice phrase from one of your reviews; it was so spot-on that Starscream simply had to quote it …


	8. Primed Explosions: Three

_“Ah, Spymaster. What news have you for me?”_

_Klick. Chrrr. “LORD and master MEGATRONUS. autobots – chrr – and ORION PAX – planning -”_

>>Megatron: already contacted Optimus Prime?<<

_“- on SECURING – homina research institution.”_

_“Are they indeed?”_

A dark chuckle as Megatronus paced between the sofa and the big screen, red optics narrowed in both thought and vicious delight. _“Well, we should make sure they have a proper welcome committee waiting for them upon arrival, should we not? Get Screamer!”_

>>Optimus Prime: asked for another conversation already three solar cycles ago<<

_Chrr-klick. “Screamer IS OUT on PATROL.”_

Megatronus waved an impatient servo. _“We have more important matters to discuss.”_

_“LORD and master MEGATRONUS IS IN NEED of proper FUEL.”_

>>Query: how long does Megatron want to wait to know the truth?<<

Megatronus glared at his subservient, but occasionally very stubborn devoted follower. _“I want him back NOW.”_

>>Cut it out, Soundwave!<<

Spymaster bowed low. _“as LORD and master MEGATRONUS commands.”_

>>Clock: ticking<<

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am trying to _work_ with you here!” Megatron grumbled, giving up on staying in-character. He knew Soundwave too well to hold out any hope that they would get any more dry runs of their shared scenes done when he so obviously wanted to talk about something else.

Their apartment’s common area had seen countless rehearsals where Megatronus bellowed at his sycophants, and usually Megatron was perfectly able to ignore how little the overstuffed, comfortable surroundings matched the threatening atmosphere of Megatronus’ average lair.

But usually Soundwave did not insist on sending comms while they were rehearsing.

“Soundwave: shifted priorities.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge, crossing his arms and feeling both defensive and annoyed. “Mine haven’t.”

“Megatron’s opinion: irrelevant.”

“Excuse you?” he growled. Soundwave, of course, was unimpressed. He was rarely, if ever, impressed by Megatron’s temper. Which made it all the more strange to hear that other mecha seriously thought Megatron could order him around.

“Soundwave’s priority: making sure Megatron is well. Current status: not well. Reason: frets too much about Iaconian rumour mill and Optimus Prime.”

Megatron opened his mouth. Then he shut it.

Then he muttered, “Maybe, but it’s not your job to make me talk to him.”

“Soundwave: Megatron’s best friend. Best friend contract: Soundwave’s task: make Megatron do things he doesn’t want to do.”

Megatron rolled his optics at him. “We do not have a ‘best friends contract’, and it is none of your business.”

A databurst from Soundwave. Megatron opened it.

_Best friend contract_

_I, the signed, confirm that the mech known as “Soundwave”, is to be considered my best friend. As such, he is entitled to affectionate teasing of the signed, the occasional stern talking-to, and to annoying the signed until he gets his big aft moving and talks to Optimus Prime._

Megatron’s signature on the thing was so obviously faked that he had to bring all his self-control not to burst out laughing. “You are such a fragging, virus-infested glitch!” he said instead, attempting to sound stern and failing. Soundwave displayed a clip of a swooning femme on his visor, putting a theatrical servo to his own spark.

“Megatron: makes the most charming compliments.”

He could not help it; he huffed out a laugh. “Remind me again, why are we friends?”

“Megatron: adores Soundwave,” was the dead-pan reply and now Megatron did lose it and laughed.

“And here mecha all over Cybertron believe that out of our little trio, Starscream and I are vying for the title of the most arrogant mech on set!”

😝

“You are a menace,” Megatron said affectionately, sitting down on the sofa, then ex-vented. “It’s not just that it’s Prime,” he said a little forlornly. “It’s also – Primus, do I really come across as such an aft?”

Soundwave was quiet for a few moments. Finally he said, “Megatron: knows his purpose and fights for his ideals. Other mecha: have less direction. Fewer ambitions. Different dreams. Megatron: can be overwhelming.” He paused. “But: Megatron never deceives. Not friends, not berth partners. Soundwave: would like to get his servos on mecha who lied about their relationship with Megatron.”

Megatron ex-vented again, morosely staring out the window. “I never thought I would come to regret that.”

Soundwave sat next to him, field pulsing affection and reassurance. “Iaconian interfacing morals: stricter than we knew.”

“Stupid Temple,” Megatron muttered and Soundwave inclined his helm.

“Soundwave: agrees. Still: Megatron: needs to talk to Optimus Prime as soon as possible.”

Megatron ex-vented once more and shuttered his optics. “Fine. Fine. Cliffjumper told me that Prime will be at the studio later this day-cycle for jetpack training lessons. Ultra Magnus has asked me to drop by anyway. Perhaps I can catch him on the airfield.”

Soundwave gave him the equivalent of a raised optic ridge. “Megatron: could simply comm Prime.”

“If I am going to do this, let me do it my own way,” Megatron muttered, trying not to let on how much his spark fluttered at the thought of comming Optimus Prime to arrange a meeting.

Soundwave sniggered.

* * *

Prime was indeed at the studio-owned airfield when Megatron pretended to be casually and completely coincidentally walking past there after his chat with Ultra Magnus. He quietly cursed his luck and changed direction.

“Airfield” was probably giving it too much credit, admittedly, although the big open space behind Studio 5 was the training (and frequently also the shooting) location for every mech with flight capacity. On occasion, it also served as a playground for said flightframes, mostly after their shoots were done and the studio was closing down for the day-cycle. Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave occasionally joined in, too, but other than the other flightframes, they technically made up a trine (technically because Starscream was already bonded, and neither Megatron nor Soundwave would consider bonding to one another as anything but amicae). They therefore preferred to go flying by themselves, not least because they had discovered very early on that Starscream’s past career in the military made him a little too prone to risqué manoeuvres, which Ultra Magnus had told him off for several times. Off studio grounds, Starscream could do whatever he wanted, Ultra Magnus had said, frowning severely. On studio grounds, he could not be permitted to endanger other flightframes by egging them on to attempt manoeuvres that were beyond their capabilities.

Starscream had smirked and sauntered away, fluttering his wings in a way that was both insulting and flirty, and smugly declared that he anyway didn’t need an airfield.

Grounders with jetpacks very much did. As Megatron drew closer, he recognised Skyfire and Silverbolt, who was up in the air with Prime, instructing him calmly about his new piece of equipment. Megatron stopped beside Skyfire, offering a polite nod when the freelance inventor turned to him. Skyfire smiled.

“Long time no see, Megatron. How is Starscream doing?”

“He went off to Vos yesterday,” Megatron replied, nodding towards Prime. “From your box of toys?”

Skyfire chuckled and looked back up, where Prime was now slowly weaving through an obstacle course made up of small hovering buoys. “Yes, a new version of the one I designed for Sentinel. Optimus is getting along with it well.”

Optimus, not Prime.

“You know him?” Megatron asked casually while tracking Prime’s movements. He was obviously bringing the same quietly elegant grace to flying as he showed while fighting. Hmm. They would be able to work with that.

“Optimus? Oh, yes, I know him from his time at the Hall of Records. He used to work on the Science level before he got transferred to Sparkling literature.” Skyfire’s plating suddenly flared out in embarrassment. “Oh, I mean -”

“I know he used to be Orion Pax,” Megatron said. “He told me.”

Skyfire smiled, still embarrassed. “I don’t believe anyone has ever asked me if I know him.”

Megatron debated offering reassurance via his field, then decided he didn’t know Skyfire well enough for that, and instead said, “Well, there are very few mecha who would assume a freelance inventor-scientist and a Prime are acquainted.”

“True.”

Silence.

“Is this a strap-on jetpack as well?” Megatron said and Skyfire nodded.

“Yes, just like Sentinel’s. I could have made a proper mod out of it, but since it hasn’t quite been decided how they will work it in, I figured Optimus would prefer something he can take off at the end of the day-cycle. The black button on the chest opens the straps.”

Megatron hm-ed.

Silence. Megatron tried to resist the urge to shift, however imperceptibly. Small talk was not his forté, had never been. Starscream had something of a point with his declaration that Megatron’s approach to flirting consisted of open offers for interface. Although he was never quite _that_ straightforward.

Silverbolt solved the problem for him by looking down just as Prime finished the obstacle course and spotting Megatron, and then descending with Prime in tow.

“Megatron! Aren’t you supposed to be at home? Or does the RoRo-trine have other plans?”

Prime looked at Silverbolt and Megatron ex-vented. “Starscream went to visit his _proper_ trine.”

“And left you and Soundwave to rehearse on your own? A miracle!” Silverbolt grinned as Skyfire chuckled. Megatron rolled his optics. He was not a fan of that particular nickname. Although it did give him some satisfaction that Prime could see and hear for himself that not only were Megatron and Starscream on good terms with other mecha at Matrix, but they even knew their usual routines.

“He does, on occasion, trust us to know what to do,” he replied dryly and the other two mecha chuckled once more. “Prime, what’s your opinion on the jetpack?”

He could see the minute movement as Prime startled, then felt a very short, indecipherable flare of the field. The battlemask snapped shut. “It is easier than I expected to control it. Skyfire kindly let me download some code to help me integrate it better.”

Sentinel had always refused the code. Megatron nodded, strangely pleased. “Then I suppose Tailgate and Cliffjumper will be given permission to include more air battle scenes?”

“I believe I will need a little more preparation,” Prime said and Silverbolt looked between them.

“Speaking of that – Megatron, since you’re here anyway, how about you join Optimus up there and the two of you can start getting used to each other?”

Skyfire nodded eagerly. “Good idea! Don’t worry, Optimus, Megatron is a very experienced flyer, even if he is an altmode changeling.”

Blue optics flickered to him, but Prime looked away almost immediately, and Megatron’s spark flared for a moment. Had Prime changed his processor after their conversation? Because Megatron had not contacted him? At the screening, he had even _told_ Megatron that he had harboured doubts about the veracity of the rumours before they ever met, but …

“If you think it is a good idea,” the deep voice said demurely and Megatron rudely killed the threads. He was going to make sure Prime _knew_ that he was a good colleague.

“Whichever way you prefer,” he said stiffly, and Skyfire reset his optics.

“Do you have any plans now?”

Megatron shook his helm. “I would not want to interfere with the training.”

“I’m not expecting you to do a proper air battle, just fly alongside each other for a little. Get familiar with each other up in the air,” Silverbolt added, likewise looking slightly confused, and Megatron had to fight to not interpret the last part as an insinuation.

Without giving himself time to think, he transformed. Silverbolt chuckled again. “Can’t resist the opportunity to stretch your wings, huh? Right, Optimus, you go up first. Straight up until you reach the first buoy, then wait for Megatron. Once he’s there, do the same exercise as just now. Megatron, I want you to stay on his left side. Optimus, that means you’ll need to make space for Megatron to your left.”

“Understood.”

“Do you have each other’s comms?”

“Yes.”

Was Megatron imagining it or did Prime’s voice sound a little forced? He did not get time to dwell on it, because the mech in question soared into the sky the next moment, dutifully aiming for the first buoy. Silverbolt stepped up to Megatron and patted his wing. “Look out for him a little up there. He’s doing very well, but he isn’t what I would call an experienced flyer.”

>>What do you think I was planning to do?<< Megatron returned, slightly miffed, and Silverbolt chuckled.

“Off you go.”

Megatron took off, glad to be able to escape the strange tension, and quickly caught up to Prime at the first buoy. >>You ready?<<

>>Yes<<

>>You go first. I’ll stay on your left like Silverbolt said. Just concentrate on your course<<

There was a short moment of hesitation, then >>I – we still have a conversation to finish -<<

>>Later, Prime<< Megatron replied. >>We will have time for this later<<

>>You did not comm<<

Megatron wanted to bite himself. Why did Soundwave always have to be right?

>>Later. I will explain later. For now, fly<<

>>After we finish here?<<

>>Yes, after we finish here<<

Prime finally moved, carefully manipulating the jetpack thrusters to move him forward into the obstacle course. >>Taking this one on the right<<

Megatron pinged back confirmation and then kept his attention on his HUD to make sure he kept the right distance. >>You need to swing really far to the right to make sure I can take this one<<

>>Confirmed<<

They had successfully woven through the first ten buoys when Megatron suddenly noticed Prime, who had so far been keeping stable in the air, do something weird. He – wobbled.

>>Prime?<<

>>Yes<< Another strange wobble. Megatron did not like it at all.

>>What’s the matter?<< He sent a ping to Silverbolt, nothing precise, just making sure their flight instructor was paying attention, and noted with relief the answering ping.

Prime wobbled again. >>I am not entirely sure. I seem to be losing control<<

>>Alright. Let’s go for descent. Slowly and gently. I’ll fly below you. In a worst-case scenario, hit the button and get rid of that thing as fast as you can. I’ll catch you<<

He had barely finished the comm when out of nowhere, one of the fuel tanks of the jetpack burst into flames.

Optimus did not scream when the flames rushed over his leg, scorching the metal there. Megatron got a good look at wide blue optics, black servos scrabbling at the harness that kept the jetpack secured to the mech.

>>HIT THE FRAGGING BUTTON!<<

As if in slow-motion, Megatron saw one black servo move away from the chassis, then slam back on top of the button.

The harness straps snapped back, freeing Optimus.

And then he fell out of the sky, immediately followed by the burning jetpack.

Megatron’s engine roared as he pushed himself to full speed, his whole processor focusing on the task of getting the flaming jetpack away from the falling, injured mech. They were too close to each other, the jetpack, having lost its pilot, unable to stay in flight any longer. Megatron dipped into a steep dive, then up again on Optimus’ other side, hitting the jetpack full-on with his nose.

The impact send it spiralling off to the side, far off from where Optimus was continuing to fall.

Megatron barely took the time to ensure that the jetpack did not pose a danger any longer before he forced himself into another steep dive, chasing after Optimus. His spark was burning itself out. They had been too high up for Optimus to stand much of a chance when he hit the ground, and Megatron had lost precious nano-kliks making sure the jetpack wouldn’t flatten him in addition -

>>STAY PUT! I got him!<<

Megatron slowed, his fight flight instructor’s orders overriding his intense urge to get to Optimus. Less than a nano-klik later, Silverbolt had caught Optimus and was controlling their fall to the ground.

Megatron knew better than to get in the way by getting closer – Silverbolt was currently transporting a likely pain-dazed, injured and perhaps barely conscious mech on his back, the last thing he needed was Megatron flying around them in worried circles. From the direction of the medical centre, he could already hear Ratchet’s siren blaring. They made it to the ground before he had arrived, although he could only be a klik away by now. Megatron landed with a thump, too, hardly finished with his transformation before he was running towards Optimus.

The good news was, he was already sitting up, although leaning against Skyfire. The bad news was, even from several steps away, Megatron could see plating blistering away from his left leg. Silverbolt was kneeling beside him, pulling a portable coolant pack from his subspace. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warned and received a nod before he quickly activated the coolant by crunching the pack between his servos and pressing it against the worst of the blistering area.

Optimus shuddered, but made no sound. Megatron slowed down, trying not to hover or otherwise be in the way. “Anything I can help with?”

Optimus offered him a tiny smile and Megatron noticed that his finials had flattened themselves into one line, pointing backwards. “Give me something to hold onto?”

His voice was tightly controlled. Megatron knew the feeling intimately; drills in the mines could run extremely hot, and he had more than once gotten blisters in return for a moment of distraction. They had generally been small, though, less than a tenth of the area that was blistering on Optimus’ leg.

Without a word, Megatron knelt down as well and offered his servo. Optimus smiled, accepted it into his own, then shuttered his optics.

“None of that, Optimus!” Silverbolt said severely. “Keep your optics open, we can’t have you going into shock!”

The blue optics obediently unshuttered and focused on Megatron. “Well, that was unplanned,” Optimus said weakly.

Megatron snorted. “No slag.”

With a screech of tyres, Ratchet stopped beside them, transformed immediately and hurried to Optimus as well. Silverbolt moved aside, letting him at the burnt leg, and Ratchet made liberal use of several curses that had Megatron raising an optic ridge.

“Gonna have to take you back to the clinic, Optimus,” he said while applying some sort of white foam that had Optimus’ servo almost crushing Megatron’s. “What happened? Skyfire only said the jetpack malfunctioned.”

Megatron snorted again. “More like ‘burst into flames out of nowhere’.”

Ratchet glared at Skyfire, who had the decency to duck his helm. “And how could that happen? I thought the equipment was regularly checked!”

“It is! I checked it this morning before I gave it to him!” Skyfire craned his neck and looked over at where the jetpack had crashed to the ground and was still burning up. “I had better go put that out.”

Ratchet growled and transformed back into an ambulance. “You had better! Silverbolt, load Optimus inside me!”

Megatron’s servo slipped out of Optimus’ as Silverbolt followed the order. Blue optics stayed locked on him. “Come to the medical centre?”

Megatron nodded jerkily. “Right behind you.”

* * *

That was why he was sitting in the medical centre beside Optimus’ berth and worriedly watching him recharge when Starscream commed him. Ratchet had been none-too-pleased by Optimus’ insistence that Megatron stay while the burn was being dressed and treated. However, he was a medical professional, and therefore bit back any comments about Optimus choosing to hold Megatron’s servo through all of it.

He had, however, glared at Megatron after he had triggered a medical recharge cycle, and said, voice tight, “If you even think about making any moves on him, I’ll make sure you’ll never have a comfortable cycle in your whole functioning again, is that clear?”

Megatron had growled back that Ratchet needn’t overclock himself worrying about that, since Megatron was very much not planning to. While obviously not convinced, Ratchet did leave them alone after informing Megatron that he expected him to be gone by the time he returned, thereby leaving it up to him to figure out a way to detach his servo from Optimus’.

He was still pondering the dilemma (warframes were not exactly known for a lack of strength, and Optimus’ servo had almost literally clamped down on his) when his HUD lit up with the notification.

>>WHERE ARE YOU?<<

>>At the studio<< Megatron replied, wiggling his digits a little to see whether that might induce Optimus to loosen his grasp. >>Optimus had an accident. I’m at the medical centre with him<<

Starscream, the same Starscream who almost burst fuel lines when something on set wasn’t going according to plan, reacted with the calm level-helmedness of the ex-military commander he was. >>How bad? What happened?<<

>>Stupid jetpack burst into flames while we were flying<< Megatron’s jaw clenched. >>Scorched his left leg pretty badly. Ratchet says it’ll take about a week for the nanites to replace the damaged plating. He’ll be able to go home by tomorrow, though<<

>>Impact damage?<<

>>Silverbolt caught him<<

>>What’s his current status?<<

Megatron looked at the recharging mech and considered how much information he was willing to provide. >>Ratchet put him into medical recharge. I’m just getting ready to leave<<

>>I’ll meet you at our studio<<

With that, Starscream cut off and Megatron wiggled his digits a little more insistently. Fortunately, Optimus did loosen his hold at that and he was able to slip out of the grip. He stood, hesitating, not wanting to leave without a word, and then found an empty notepad in his subspace.

_Sorry I had to leave. I hope you feel better. Let me know if you need any help._

He added his private comm frequency and, for good measure, his grid address. While he was fairly certain that between Ratchet, Jazz, Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead, Optimus would not want for more help, it was only polite to offer.

First Aid stopped in the corridor when Megatron walked out and looked him over worriedly. “You alright?”

He raised an optic ridge. “Shouldn’t your concern be for Optimus?”

First Aid smiled. “I already know how he is doing, I’m less certain Ratchet asked if you’re okay. From what I’ve heard, it was a pretty close call.”

Megatron gave a jerky nod. “If we’d been alone up there, I might not have been able to catch him in time.”

First Aid radiated reassurance when he put a servo on Megatron’s arm. “Take it easy today, alright? Do something nice, treat yourself and remember that Silverbolt was there and apart from an admittedly bad burn, Optimus is fine. And remember that we don’t let any of you go up there without a flight guard.”

Megatron snorted. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone get hurt on set, First Aid.”

“And wouldn’t be the first time you got hurt on set, either, I know,” First Aid agreed easily, smile deepening. “Still, a reminder can’t hurt, can it?”

Megatron rolled his optics, but squeezed First Aid’s servo. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you, Megatron.”

They continued in their respective directions and Megatron did actually take a few deep vents when he returned to the bright outside. His tank still felt a tad leaden, fuel sitting in there uneasily, but First Aid was right – Silverbolt had been there, Optimus had been caught, and that burn would heal within a week. It could have been much worse. Megatron had seen accidents where things turned out much worse. One one occasion, when he had been working on a Tarnian set, he had seen a mech crippled by part of the building collapsing earlier than it should have. Accidents like that were unavoidable, even on a comparatively harmless show like RoRo. At least Alpha Trion had always been big on safety precautions that Megatron, for his share, had considered unnecessary at the beginning of his career. These cycles, well …

Starscream was indeed at their studio, practically vibrating with tension, wings fluttering. Megatron quickened his steps, wondering what could have happened. Something to do with their new director, perhaps?

Starscream spun around upon hearing his steps and immediately pushed a datapad into his face. Megatron reeled back. “Hey, what are you doing -”

Starscream’s optics were glowing a deep red. “It’s all out in the open now!”

“What?” He took a step back, trying to gain some space. To no effect.

“Megatron, _look_ at it!” Starscream urged and he had to reel back before the datapad connected with his face.

“Oh,” he said, his tank lurching again.

There it was, splayed across the front page.

**_A Prime Escapade! Optimus Prime cast as the new Orion Pax!_ **

The newsmecha had figured it out. Great. Exactly what they needed right now.

* * *

In all the time Megatron had been an actor, he had never seen a metaphorical explosion of even remotely comparable proportions to the one that happened on the grid from the moment _Iacon Image_ broadcast that headline.

From the safety of their apartment, he, Starscream, Soundwave and Soundwave’s gaggle watched the whole thing unfold with wide optics and bright visors. In Megatron’s case, he was also watching the newsmecha descend on Alpha Trion with twitching servos, trying to control the urge to fly over and provide a physical barrier between the old mech and the newsmecha. But Ultra Magnus had insisted quite forcefully that both Megatron and Starscream return home immediately after they had updated him on the situation, and also sent a comm to the whole RoRo-crew that they stay away from the studio grounds until the first storm had passed.

At least Ultra Magnus had also had the foresight to bring in additional power; Megatron wasn’t terribly sure how he had managed to convince the owner of the security company Matrix contracted their guards from to play bodyguard for Alpha Trion, but Ironhide was a competent mech and perfectly capable of keeping the newsmecha at bay.

“Oooh, Sentinel’s _really_ pissed!” Frenzy announced gleefully, visor glued to the datapad he was using to keep an optic on one of the sparkling holovid forums. Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were all perched in various locations in their common area, connected to Soundwave via various cables and doing their own surveillance. The sight was a tad strange; Megatron knew, of course, that Soundwave was one of the cassette-carrier-mecha descended from the nomadic clans that used to roam Cybertron before the Quintesson War, and that he and his “apprentices” truly had a much more intimate relationship than they generally let on. Yet it was easy to forget just how close they were, with them not living together any longer. Back when they had all still been working in the mines, Soundwave had shared his quarters with them, but with time, that had changed, and when Soundwave and Megatron had decided to pool their shanix and buy an apartment together, Soundwave had simply informed him that none of them were going to move in with them.

Megatron had actually been a little relieved, but on occasions like now, he wondered if Soundwave missed having his gaggle around all the time. He looked very comfortable, in any case, in the middle of the smaller mecha with his own datapad.

“Sentinel: saying what?”

Frenzy did something and the big screen switched to showing the forum Frenzy was looking at, the window showing Alpha Trion talking to the newsmecha minimising into the upper left corner. “He hates Optimus now!”

The assessment, Megatron discovered, was very true. “Is he allowed to write something like that about a fellow Prime?” he demanded, keeping a lid on his temper with difficulty. “Someone tell me how precisely Prime is ‘bringing shame upon his title’ by playing Orion Pax!”

Frenzy shrugged and Soundwave turned his visor to him. “He’s not exactly saying it in an official capacity.”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “Oh please, as if he’s fooling anyone! _thetruepax,_ seriously!”

Sniggers around the room, Starscream rolled his optics. “He’s been using it for ages, and no-one on that forum has figured out it’s him yet.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Rumble elbowed Ravage and snorted. “Everyone thinks that he’s just a steel Orion Pax fan.”

Megatron was probably looking appalled, because Ravage purred soothingly. “He’s seriously talking about himself on these forums?”

Starscream rolled his optics again. “If you ever bothered to look, you would’ve known that! He’s been doing it for almost as long as he’s been on the show.”

“Sentinel: not talking about himself. Topic: Orion Pax’s motivations.”

Megatron crossed his arms and scoffed. “So he’s talking about his role, where’s the difference?”

“Sentinel: very careful. Avoids: commenting on himself. Result: forum participants: no suspicions concerning his identity,” Soundwave explained.

Megatron scoffed again. “How can anyone _not_ recognise him if he keeps talking about _Orion Pax’_ motivations? The character he is _playing?”_

Before Starscream could start in on another one of his rants about how badly Iacon was treating them, he waved him off, growling, “It was a rhetorical question!”

Because he knew well enough why most mecha would not suspect the actors themselves on their forums, nor be able to confirm whether the thetruepax and Sentinel’s views on Orion Pax coincided.

Actors either made their opinions known in the Temple-organised interviews and discussion groups, or they had nothing to say.

Or at least, that was what probably 98% of the population believed. Megatron could not even blame them; he himself hardly ever looked at the relevant forums (Starscream and Knock Out had that covered for their crew), but which actor wanted to broadcast that they were hanging out on the same forums where their attractiveness was getting rated by commenters who used a ton of leering and spark glyphs to express their very specific appreciation for parts of the actor’s frame?

Megatron certainly had no interest at all in the next thread being started to speculate on his reasons for frequenting such forums, and he knew for a fact that Starscream, even Skywarp, who loved reading the gossip about _Star Paths,_ were excessively careful to not betray their true identity. Knock Out had a much easier time of it, “only” being the kibble designer. He just had to make sure he didn’t accidentally spill any real on-set gossip on there, because his colleagues (Megatron included) would very definitely _not_ be happy to find their private affairs and set squabbles talked about by mecha they didn’t even know.

Iaconian actors might not mind that their private affairs received that kind of attention, but Kaonion actors certainly _would_.

And just like that, Megatron’s spark lurched and he remembered once more that, in fact, _his_ private affairs had been talked about behind his back – perhaps not on the grid, but certainly on Iaconian sets.

Abruptly, he turned around and walked into the kitchen, planning to prepare himself a cube to take his processor off it.

Unfortunately, Starscream, who at times had a knack for being slow on the uptake, prowled in there as well, optics blazing, and immediately said, “What would Sentinel have had to worry about? Like _he_ ever put as much effort into playing Pax as he tried to make us believe! Those comments on the forum all sound like he watched the episode five times and then tried to come up with excuses how his sloppy acting could make sense in the context of the series!”

It was likely a combination of several factors – Optimus’ accident, the headline, Sentinel slandering Optimus –, but Megatron immediately saw red. They had still not talked about their fight, and both of them had carefully avoided broaching the topic again since the screening, but now Megatron could not stop himself from throwing a dig Starscream’s way. “If you really start working in Iacon, you’ll have to deal with mecha like him all the time. Sure you really want?”

Starscream stiffened and half glared at him. “Why would I not?”

Megatron gestured at the screen. “You want to trade _us_ for _these_ mecha?”

Starscream stared at him. “Do you think I would go to Iacon for the pleasant company? Have you blown a fuse?”

Megatron crossed his arms. “You’ll have to put up with them, whether you like them or not!”

Starscream snorted and pushed a digit into Megatron’s chassis. “ _I_ was in the military. _I_ know how to deal with mecha I can’t stand, but have to work with – other than you. Besides, I wouldn’t be alone there for long.”

“Wouldn’t you.” Megatron could not help the scowl. Starscream scowled back.

“No, I wouldn’t, because I can cast my actors, and _I_ would not be as intent on casting Iaconians only as others are.”

Megatron scoffed. “As if they would let you! You know as well as I that no Iaconian studio will let you choose more than one or two non-Iaconian actors!”

Starscream glared, now properly annoyed, and started gesturing. “Oh, _you_ wouldn’t be able to convince them for sure! Since _you_ always insist on smashing through the walls when you could as well walk through the door.”

Megatron bristled. “You haven’t exactly been showing great skills in subtlety either!”

“Because at Matrix, I don’t fragging _have to!”_

His voice was so loud that all six other mecha in the room turned their helms to them. Starscream growled at them to get back to whatever they were doing, and then turned to Megatron, optics blazing. “Look, you big heap of rusty metal, I was wrapping Iaconian military officials around my little digit before the miners ever went on strike, and I’m _good_ at it!”

“Of course, that was why I had to remind you to be polite to Jazz -”

Starscream threw his servos up. “Fine! Don’t believe me then! Because you know me so extremely well!”

“We’ve been sharing an apartment for over five vorns now, I think I might be justified saying that I know you fairly well!” Megatron snapped. Starscream narrowed his optics.

“I’m no less than seven vorns your senior, Megatron! What do you figure I was doing during those stellar cycles in the Air Force? Where every single one of my superiors was a Primus-damned _grounder_ from Iacon with as much understanding of flightframes as Sentinel has of a mining drill?”

Megatron opened his intake to object, but Starscream stabbed a claw into his chest, radiating fury. “You have no idea how much grovelling and sweet-talking it took to get those byte-processored military bureaucrats to just _let us do our jobs!_ Why the frag do you think we _quit?_ For the fun of becoming actors?”

Megatron reset his optics. Starscream was fuming, heated air streaming from his vents. “We were _soldiers,_ Megatron! Optimus Prime may have been been able to give up on it without problems, great for him, he truly would’ve made a horrible commander, but _I_ could have been great! I _knew_ my fragging job, and I was _good_ at it, and would’ve been even _better_ if those damned grounders hadn’t made sure to keep all of the really important positions to themselves!”

There was literally nothing Megatron could say to refute that, because truth be told, his knowledge about military matters was zero. He could, from vorns of working with Starscream, confirm that the mech knew what he wanted and how he wanted it done, although he tended more than a little towards turning insignificant little events into drama. What was also certainly true was that the Cybertronian military was still largely led by grounders, and that he had heard Thundercracker, Skywarp and Starscream make derisive comments about their former superiors often enough to know they were one of the reasons the trine had decided to quit and seek their fortunes elsewhere.

“I didn’t realise you liked it so much,” he said, still astonished at the violent reaction. Starscream glared at him, optics narrow and glowing crimson, and then his pauldrons slumped and he hissed, “Nevermind!”

“Starscream!” Megatron caught his pauldron before he could stalk out of the kitchen and disappear into his room. “We could go for a flight.”

What he was really offering here was the opportunity to get their issue resolved, and of course Starscream knew, because this was how they solved most of their conflicts. For a moment, he could see Starscream’s processor working, calculation in his optics, and then he relaxed under Megatron’s servo and put his own on Megatron’s forearm guard. “No point in expecting sparklings to understand their elders,” he muttered, and Megatron flared his plating a little.

“You aren’t _that_ much older than me, Starscream!”

Sniggering, Starscream escaped the servo on his shoulder and pranced out of the kitchen. “Sure. You keep telling yourself that! Experience can’t be bought, you know!”

“Pitspawn!”

“Rustbucket!”

“Frag you!” Megatron yelled at the door closing to Starscream’s room, and just managed to catch the cheerful, “You wish!” before it closed.

Rumble ambled over, tugging his cable with him and grinning. “Much better,” he said and Megatron smiled down at him.

“Yes. It is.”


	9. Prime Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what, I was early getting this done. And then my beta happened to have time. And now my inspiration has completely deserted me, so I’m posting this in the hopes that the pressure will help my creativity resurface …  
> In other words: the next chapter will most probably not appear as quickly ^^’

With him and Starscream back on good terms, Megatron found it was much easier to deal with the apprehension crawling through his lines when he came out of recharge the next morning. Watching the discussions on the grid last night-cycle had amped everyone’s tension up, and he knew from experience that until the episode had been broadcast and they had seen the first reactions to it, none of them, not even Soundwave, would be able to settle properly.

It was the same every time the first episode of a new season was aired, they all knew that; the first episode could make or break the success of the season as a whole, but Megatron felt reasonably justified in saying that this time, the stakes were even higher.

And Prime did not even have that much screen time in that episode, apart from pushing a few buttons in his “spaceship” in half darkness (“I must conserve as much energy as possible. There is no telling how far Megatronus will have fled, and where to” – and also, I’m definitely not Sentinel Prime and with more light, that would be glaringly obvious) and then crawling out of the artfully arranged “wreck” in similarly artfully destroyed kibble rendering him basically unrecognisable. Megatron, on the other servo, he had a lot of screen time, since Cliffjumper and Tailgate had decided that Megatronus would provide their audience’s first bits and pieces of information about the strange planet Terra. And then of course little Hot Rod, the sparkling playing sparkling Orion Pax, got a fair amount of screen time as well.

Megatron wondered how that would fly with their audience. Their _intended_ audience, he felt reasonably certain, could not care less that a Prime had suddenly replaced Sentinel; if they were going to object, it would be because they wanted their familiar Orion Pax back. Their creators, well …

“IBSC is expecting a viewer rating of more than 80%,” Starscream said, optics glued to his datapad, when Megatron came out of his berthroom and joined him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter to sip his energon.

“Mhm.”

“That would be the highest viewer rating for the show ever.”

“Which only means it can drop significantly for the second episode.”

Starscream spared a moment to glare at him over his datapad. “Aren’t we optimistic.”

“Prime is hardly on screen,” Megatron pointed out. “And after all of the uproar, mecha are going to be disappointed with that. Now that they _know_ he’s going to be in it, they’ll want to see him, and not a sparkling and three new characters.”

Starscream flicked his wings angrily. “And they’ll tune into the second episode to see _more_ of him.”

“We’ll see,” Megatron said evenly and Starscream flicked up his wings in desperation.

“Lump of metal!”

Megatron rolled his optics. “We’re almost out of midgrade.”

“I already commed Ratbat.” Starscream waved it off. “He’ll bring some round later.”

“And green crystal loaves?”

“ _Yes,_ and green crystal loaves!” Starscream treated him to another narrow-opticked glare. “You are going to throw away my last shanix on your ridiculous loaves!”

“Starscream, Megatron: recharged well?” Soundwave put in, joining them, and immediately continued, “Cost of Megatron’s green crystal loaves: significantly less than rent.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Starscream muttered after a last glare at Megatron. “Green crystal loaves! Pointless indulgence.”

“Says the mech who has been known to spend half his pay for a bottle of polish,” Megatron shot back, holding back his grin at the angry flick of wings.

“Just because _I_ have a solid understanding of the importance of proper grooming -”

Megatron’s comm rang and he startled, checking his chronometer. It was – just past eight oh hundred, and he did not recognise the identification, so it was not Ultra Magnus or anyone from the studio.

Putting his cube on the counter, he went into the common area and cautiously picked up. “Yes?”

A moment of silence, then a hesitant, “Is this Megatron?”

His spark flipped over. “Prime.”

“Ah. Yes. Yes, this is Optimus.”

 _Optimus_. Megatron reset his vocaliser. “Yes. How is the leg?”

“Oh. Yes. Uhm. It does not hurt very much?”

Megatron hm-ed. “Did Ratchet give you a patch?”

“No, he turned down my pain receptors. I am under strict orders to refrain from anything except lying down.”

“That sounds very -” Megatron tried to come up with a word, and then there was a quiet chuckle from the other end.

“Boring,” Prime said, voice warm. “It is.”

“Well.” Megatron felt strangely proud. “Would you – can I help you with that?”

“I would appreciate that, yes.”

Megatron’s vocaliser glitched again. He quickly reset it. “Of course.”

“Would you – I was wondering, since I am required to stay in berth – would you perhaps be willing to practice my lines with me?”

Prime sounded at once eager and hesitant, and that helped Megatron get over his initial shock.

“I cannot do much else, you understand, so I was wondering -”

“Of course,” Megatron interrupted, cursed himself for it, and then barrelled on in the hopes that Prime might forgive him for the interruption. “Would you like me to bring you something? Energon? Something from Ratbat’s, maybe? Since I am anyway coming over.”

“Oh. Thank you. I – actually I will be staying with Jazz. He insisted I should not be alone in my condition, and will pick me up in a groon at the medical centre.” Prime sounded embarrassed.

“Very wise,” Megatron hastened to say. “You want to take it easy with a burn like that.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“Who’re you talking to?” Rumble slumped against his leg, visor dimmed. “I want fuel!”

“You know where the dispenser is,” Megatron said, immensely relieved at the interruption. Laserbeak settled on his pauldron and chirped right into his audial. “ _You_ know where it is, too!”

“But I want youuu to get it for me!” Rumble whined, and Megatron started being considerably less grateful, but Prime was already speaking.

“I am very sorry I disturbed your morning. I shall leave you to it.”

“No, Prime, wait -” Megatron stashed Rumble under one arm and stomped into the kitchen to deliver him to Soundwave, “- you aren’t interrupting, these lazy glitches are just being obnoxious.”

“Do they live with you as well?” Interest laced the words. Megatron dropped Rumble unceremoniously on one counter.

“Not in general, no, only when they stay over, or they have been kicked out by their landlord again.” Megatron sent Soundwave a look that made clear that he wished to remain undisturbed during this call, and Laserbeak left his pauldron. “When would you like me to come over? And particular episode you had in processor, or should I just bring all of the new scripts?”

Prime’s voice was warm, and Megatron could imagine his tiny smile and those bright blue optics. “Would eleven oh hundred be convenient? Ratchet will have settled me by then and left.”

Megatron could not help a little burst of amusement. Apparently Prime had learnt his lesson about keeping Ratchet and Megatron apart. “I am free. Take care, Prime.”

“Thank you, Megatron. You too.”

They hung up and Megatron steeled himself, turning around and meeting an array of bright visors and gleefully glowing red optics. Starscream was already reaching for his own comm, smirking. “And this time, Megatron, you’ll be a polite guest and bring a gift to the poor invalid. Red crystal doughnuts were his favourite, right?”

* * *

“Nice of you to keep OP company.” Jazz grinned up at Megatron while leading him further into the mansion. “An’ don’ worry, I won’t be telling Ratchet.”

Megatron could not help the quiet little ex-vent escaping. Jazz chuckled and his visor brightened to a warm tone. “Dunno if it’s gonna be any consolation to ya, but I got a whole lecture on letting OP heal in peace ’n’ quiet as well.”

Megatron grimaced. “Ratchet’s objections to me have, unfortunately, nothing to do with Prime’s physical well-being.”

It came out stiffer than he wanted it to, but if Prime knew the rumours about Megatron, Jazz would know for sure.

“OP’s a big mech, an’ he’s usually got good taste in his friends,” Jazz replied easily, and Megatron had been an actor for too long to not realise Jazz was not looking at him on purpose as he spoke. The unexpected support still had Megatron resetting his optics in surprise before he said, “If you say so.”

Jazz gave him a bright-visored glance then. “After all those vorns, I may know a thing or two ’bout him. An’ ol’ Ratchet the Hatchet.”

Fortunately for Megatron, who was not sure how to respond to that, he stopped in front of a door and knocked. “OP? Megatron’s here!”

“Come in, please.”

The door slid aside and Jazz waved Megatron in. “I’ll be in the salon, ya know where that is, if ya need anything. Or OP can comm me.”

Megatron gave him a polite nod and tried not to stumble over himself as he stepped into the bright, open, big room, easily the size of Prime’s whole apartment, where Prime was resting on a berth quite big enough for two mecha of his frametype, pillows keeping him propped up against the headboard. He was smiling his tiny smile and gesturing to a big, comfy-looking chair that had been moved to the side of the berth, a small table wedged between chair and berth.

“Please, have a seat, and my apologies again for calling you so early in the day-cycle.”

Megatron sat down and found that two cubes and a carafe of midgrade had been set out on a lower level of the table. Interesting construction. “It really wasn’t a problem, Rumble and Laserbeak just decided to make nuisances of themselves.”

The smile deepened a little and one finial moved slightly in a flutter. Megatron wondered what it meant. Lacking finials himself, he was not too adept at reading them, and mainly derived his knowledge from observing mecha he knew who had them. But even so he knew that not all mecha with finials used the same positions to signal the same emotions, and Prime appeared to be particularly good at keeping them under control.

“Your household seems to be lively.”

Megatron snorted. “That’s one way to phrase it, I guess.”

The smile became a little less pronounced. “Do you not like it?”

Ugh, why did Megatron have such a talent for saying the wrong things?

“No, that’s not what I meant – I – well, between Starscream and Soundwave’s gaggle, it’s just – sometimes more noisy than I prefer. But the company is nice.”

The finial fluttered again. “May I ask how come you live together?”

Megatron kept his surprise in check. “Sure. Well, Soundwave I knew from the mines, he used to work as a communications specialist there, and it – well, at one point we just realised that in the long run, it would be cheaper if we bought an apartment together instead of renting.”

Prime seemed a tad confused now. “But I thought – you said Starscream lives with you?”

Megatron snorted. “Starscream moved into the spare room temporarily when his apartment suffered severe damage from a power grid failure.”

Suddenly that tiny smile was there again and Prime said, “Oh, I see. This would not, perchance, have happened several vorns ago?”

“Perchance, it did,” Megatron replied dryly, and then Prime chuckled and oh Primus, Megatron had to bring all his control to not start smiling stupidly himself.

“And so he just never moved out? What did his trine say to him living with others? I always got the impression flightframes can be very – possessive.”

Megatron shrugged, buoyed by the reaction. “As far as I’m aware, Thundercracker and Skywarp don’t mind. Besides, he video-calls them practically every day-cycle.”

“Thundercracker and Skywarp?” This was also the first time he had heard Prime sound so truly surprised. “Starscream is in a trine with Captain Steelyard and Wild Rider?”

Oh, of course. Prime had mentioned he preferred the approach Vosian space opera took regarding aliens, and Vosian space opera, for most Cybertronians, was synonymous with _Star Paths._ Hardly anyone outside of Vos knew _Brake’s 7_ or _Red Cassette_. Megatron cleared his intake.

“He doesn’t – publicise the fact, but yes. They are a trine.”

“He must miss them very much,” Prime said, sounding genuinely concerned. “I cannot imagine their respective shooting schedules permit them much freedom to visit.”

Megatron stared at him for a moment and the finials all moved slightly back.

“No, no, they don’t,” he said hastily. “Starscream usually is off to Vos the moment he isn’t needed at Matrix.”

The finials moved back into their original position and Prime smiled again. “Ah, so he is still a temporary guest?”

Megatron snorted. “A very permanent temporary guest, especially considering his and my library have mixed to the point where we need to look up which datapad belongs to whom.”

The tiny smile grew. “It is very kind of you to let him share your apartment, and I am sure he appreciates the company, having to live away from his trine.”

Megatron could feel his core temperature rise, and to divert from that, said quickly, “Oh, no, no, he pays rent – well, kind of. He pays the energon bills.” And then he recalled the bag in his subspace, and reaching for it, said, “Actually, he insisted I bring a little something for you.”

The finials fluttered again when Prime saw the bag. “Oh, that is – really, you needn’t have, Megatron!”

“Yes, well, Starscream paid for them, so actually -”

Apparently that did not diminish Prime’s enthusiasm, because the tiny smile developed into a proper smile. Megatron only had a moment to appreciate it (and take an image capture) before the battlemask snapped shut.

Without wanting to, he snorted, and then sniggered, and then started laughing. “You really should have a chat with either Knock Out or Breakdown about that!” he laughed. “Perhaps they have a patch or something you could use to keep it open.”

“I am so sorry,” Prime said, finials drooping a little, and Megatron abruptly sobered.

“No, it’s – I didn’t mean to – it’s charming!”

Silence.

They stared at each other. Megatron shut his intake with an audible sound.

Then the battlemask snicked back and Prime smiled even as he struggled to meet Megatron’s optics. “Thank you.”

His field was ablaze with embarrassment, and Megatron made sure to draw it close to himself. “You’re welcome.”

Carefully, he lowered the doughnut bag onto the table. “Would you like one, perhaps?”

Prime immediately reacted. “Oh, yes, of course, I haven’t even – there is midgrade, would you like a cube?”

“Yes, thank you.”

They both turned away, Prime busying himself with the cubes and the midgrade, Megatron extracting one doughnut from the bag and looking around to see if he could find a plate or something to put it on.

“I can just -” Prime held out a servo and Megatron took a deep, silent vent and gave him the doughnut. Prime smiled at him again. “Thank you again. Even if Starscream paid for them.”

“My pleasure,” Megatron muttered, desperately trying to think about a different topic before they managed to manoeuvre themselves into the next weird silence by exhausting all the socially acceptable statements and replies.

To his great relief, Prime reached to the other side of the huge berth and produced a datapad. “You were asking whether I had a specific episode in processor. I know that the next arc will be Megatronus’ two-episode attempt to steal Terran technology from their one of their planet’s research facilities, but – I was wondering whether you might talk through the three-episode arc after that?”

Megatron quickly reached into his subspace for his own copies of the scripts. “The one where Megatronus somehow manages to swap their sparks between their frames?”

“Yes, that one.” The bright blue optics were more than a little distracting, but Megatron managed to find the right datapad. “What do you think of the concept?”

Megatron hummed. “Not new, _Star Paths_ has already done it several times, but RoRo never did.”

He looked up and found Prime watching him with interest, and Megatron took a deep vent and said, “I always figured even Alpha Trion wouldn’t dare to break with _that_ particular tradition.”

“That particular tradition?”

Megatron placed the datapad on the table and took a sip of midgrade. “The tradition that the villains in sparkling series always have to be big, imposing, threatening mecha. Working frames preferred, although warframes may be given a shot, too, provided the hero is a warframe as well.”

Now Prime hummed quietly. “It will, no doubt, cause a bit of a stir.”

Megatron snorted. “Not that we haven’t already got more than a little stir on our servos.”

Prime ex-vented very quietly. “Yes, I have been informed. There is a possibility that Alpha Trion might push this particular arc further back in the season until tempers have calmed down. Although I would prefer to keep it where it is.”

Megatron met his gaze. “Would you really?”

Prime raised one optic ridge. “From what I understand about the rest of this season’s story arc, pushing it further back would necessitate quite a few changes, and I find this arc particularly intriguing.”

Megatron let a beat of silence pass, then he said, “Prime, you do know what is going on on the grid, don’t you? I know you took this job because you have always wanted to become a sparkling holovid actor, but – the whole planet is already in an uproar over you daring to accept this role. Your own predecessor is calling you out on the grid for demeaning the title of Prime by choosing to appear in a sparkling series.”

“Optimus, please.”

Megatron reset his optics and was treated to a tiny smile. “I think after yesterday, you may as well call me by my designation. Unless, of course, you would prefer ‘Orion Pax’?”

Despite himself, Megatron chuffed out a laugh. It also nicely distracted from the sudden flare of his field. “I think ‘Optimus’ will do.”

Prime looked – Optimus looked happy, and perhaps that was why his next words hit Megatron all the harder. “I do not know what Sentinel Prime is writing on the grid about me, but regardless of his opinion, the title he and I both carry has always, since the Temple started training actors, been awarded those actors whose skills were remarkable in that they are able to portray a wide range of characters and emotions. Actors who were able to convince their audiences despite being the wrong frametype, or a mech when the role had originally been written for a femme, or the other way around. I told you that one of the reasons I accepted the role of Orion Pax was because I have been unsatisfied with the way the Iaconian studies have been restricting my choice of roles for some time now. I am a Prime, Megatron, and I intend to honour the title I was awarded. And yes, playing Megatronus transferred into Orion Pax’ frame is _exactly_ the kind of challenge I have been longing for.”

Megatron stared at him for several moments until one finial flickered and Optimus said, voice suddenly a little uncertain, “Or do you object to me playing your role?”

Megatron was so surprised he barked out a harsh laugh. “Me? Prime, you have _no idea_ how long I have been trying to get a starring role that is not a villain!”

“Optimus.”

Megatron took a deep in-vent. “Optimus. This is not about me objecting to you playing Megatronus for a combined total of two episodes. This is about what this is going to do to your career.”

“My career is -”

“No, listen to me!” Megatron raised his voice, gesturing without properly noticing it. “After I left you at the medical centre, I spent the rest of my day- and a fair part of my night-cycle watching mecha on a variety of forums tearing into you for daring to break with tradition and accepting a role in a sparkling series. Do you know how many Primes have ever, and by that I mean, _ever,_ agreed to playing a character outside of a Temple play?”

Prime raised an optic ridge. “Gabbro Prime, after receiving her title, played AI-DA in the Vosian opera of the same designation; a few stellar cycles later, she accepted starring as the main lead in _The Functioning of Others,_ one of the most controversial Polyhexian productions in recent Cybertronian history, and I am sure I need not remind you of the great surprise success when she appeared in _Sounds of Rust,_ which, while Iaconian, was hardly a Temple-approved play at the time of its production.”

Megatron stared at him and the tiny smile appeared again. “Compared to those, how did _Iacon Image_ put it, ‘Primely Escapades’, I believe my three-episode-stint as Megatronus will hardly be worth attention.”

Optimus Prime was utterly, irrevocably _glitched,_ and Megatron blurted as much. The blue optics brightened, and so did the smile.

“Yes, perhaps I am. But you, Megatron, you cannot tell me that your spark did not spin a little faster when you read that Megatronus and Orion Pax swap frames, and that _you_ would get to play Orion Pax, even if only for three episodes.”

“That is not the _point,”_ Megatron growled. “When Gabbro Prime starred in either of those, the times were still different, and you know it as well! One’s frametype has become much more important since then, studios are much more intent on making sure certain frametypes only get certain parts, and moreover, mecha all over Cybertron have much stronger _expectations_ to see certain frames cast as certain roles!”

“Yes, I know,” Optimus said calmly. “You are not the only actor I know who has been struggling with this problem. Elita-1, Chromia and Arcee have all complained many a time about always being frametype-cast to me. Besides, it used to happen to me as well.”

Which was entirely true, Megatron knew that, because he had watched Prime’s early holovids, most of which starred him as a soldier of some kind. It was only after _The Convoy of Mount Crystal_ that directors and producers had realised that Optimus Prime was capable of more and started casting him as a starry-opticked lover, a young troublemaker or loving creator. The point was, it had happened, and it had never happened to Megatron.

“And you are willing to simply throw all that freedom away for -” Megatron fumbled for words. “For _what,_ getting to be _Megatronus_ for three episodes?”

The blue optics held his. “Yes.”

Megatron could not help himself; he gawked at Optimus, rendered completely speechless.

“Do you think he is not a role worthy of the attention of a Prime?” Optimus asked, his deep voice full of passion. “In that case I will have to disagree with you most decidedly, Megatron. You have turned Megatronus into one of the most complex characters in Cybertronian sparkling holovids, and yes, I know many would not consider sparkling holovids on par with Temple plays. But you already know that I disagree with that as well. Megatronus is a scientist, ruthless in his pursuit of knowledge, driven by the shadows of his past and his thirst for knowledge and power, and yet motivated by some of the tenderest, purest emotions known to us.”

“Is he?” Megatron got out, completely flummoxed, and finials flickered wildly.

“Of course he is! He and Orion Pax started out as friends, both with the specific goal to render the functioning of their loved ones easier and safer, only choosing different careers. But while Orion Pax follows Hatchet’s example and becomes an enforcer, Megatronus chooses science and is slowly but surely seduced by his own genius and the recklessness of his mentors and taken advantage of by those of his supposed friends who only aim for more power, like Screamer. Megatron, you _must_ know this, you _made_ Megatronus who he is!”

“I -”

“And how could anyone look at Megatronus and _not_ want to play him, even if it is only for three episodes?” Optimus continued, optics so bright Megatron almost had to shutter his. “He is at once strong and so incredibly weak, driven, yet undecided, he wants to forget his friendship with Orion Pax, yet is unable to sever the bonds that tie them together. He values science and cold logic above everything else, yet cannot bring himself to consider Orion’s spark dispensable. It may not come across as clearly, RoRo is, after all, a sparkling series, but that doesn’t negate the fact that Megatronus, in a very real way, combines some of the best and at the same time, worst, traits of Mechlet and Mechtacus and is still his very own character.”

Megatron had never, ever heard anyone compare the role he was best known for with a Shakespark character. He would never have dared to voice a comparison like that, and hearing it from Optimus Prime …

“Aren’t you the original Orion Pax?” he said, processor tied up almost completely with everything Optimus had just said. “I thought you agreed because you wanted to play your role.”

Optimus reset his optics and then smiled again. “I do. Orion Pax is a fascinating character in his own right, and I want to portray him to the best of my ability as well. But I want you to understand, Megatron, I have never only seen the villain in Megatronus. And I believe that you never have, either, because it is certainly not how you play him.”

 _One_ of them would clearly have to keep the potential repercussions in processor. “Of course he is not _just_ a villain, but to the majority of our audience, that is who he is. How could he be anything else, with his actor being a mining frame.”

His voice was definitely bitter and Optimus suddenly exuded steely determination. “Then we should make sure to show our audience that one’s frametype is in no way indicative of the kind of roles an actor can play.”

Megatron shook his helm, his spark spinning far too fast in its chamber. “Optimus Prime, you are utterly glitched.”

The tiny smile appeared again. “A benefit of the title. Do you know that they say in Iacon that those named Prime were touched by Primus himself as newsparks? That they are his Chosen?”

Megatron rolled his optics. “Please.”

A little chuckle and a brighter smile. “Yes, I have never quite believed that either. Alpha Trion says that there are also stories about some kind of artefact that Primus used to bestow on his chosen Prime, but that, too, sounds a little far-fetched. And what would Primus need to choose a single mech for, anyway? He created thirteen of them in the beginning, did he not?”

Megatron chuckled as well, spark still spinning way too fast. “Well, I would certainly say that I much prefer thirteen mecha being in charge instead of just one. What are we supposed to do if that one turns out to be incompetent?” He rolled his optics. “As far as I’m concerned, I already question whether the thirteen Council members can properly represent all of Cybertron.”

“And for good reason,” Optimus agreed, optics twinkling. “It is a good thing we have the Senate to decide on the actual politics and the Council to figure out the laws.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, and then Megatron gave himself a push. “P- Optimus, I – we still have another conversation to finish.”

One finial quivered. “Oh. Yes, of course. I am truly very sorry I dropped that on you out of the blue, and I can only apologise again.”

Megatron took a deep in-vent and calmed his spark as much as he could. “Unless you have been party to spreading these rumours, there is nothing you need apologise for.”

He really wanted to wipe that spark-broken expression from this wonderful, kind face. “I would never talk about a mech’s private matters behind their back.”

“Yes, I know.”

Optimus reset his optics. “You do?”

Megatron almost smiled, wanting so badly to reach out and take one of those slender servos in his, especially now that he knew what it felt like. “Yes. That is why I say you need not apologise for anything. I just – I would like you to know -” He took another deep vent. “I do not know how familiar you are with Kaonian interfacing morals. Here, we do not consider it – a bad thing to interface with multiple others, as long as everyone involved knows exactly what the expectations are.” He dropped his gaze. “I – in hindsight, I may have given a few of our Iaconian guest-stars the wrong impression. It happened with First Aid as well, which is why Ratchet hates me so much.”

“Yet First Aid does not,” Optimus’ deep voice said warmly. “He came by specifically to assure me of that just a few groons ago, before I was released from the medical centre. It was a misunderstanding as far as he is concerned.”

Megatron shrugged. “It was, but I am -”

He quickly glanced at Optimus, then looked at his cube. “It has only struck me now that First Aid may not have been the only one with whom there was a misunderstanding, but he may have been the only one who spoke out.”

“Megatron, that still does not give them the right to slander you in Iacon.”

“No,” Megatron agreed, finally looking up. “No, it does not, but the point is – you heard about our initiative. The TIWU initiative to implement a process to report on-set harassment at Matrix.”

Optimus nodded. “I think it is a splendid idea.”

Megatron smiled half. “Thank you. I just – is it not too late already by the time mecha feel they need to report on-set harassment? No, wait – I have lived in Kaon all of my functioning. The reason I approached First Aid in the first place was because I wanted to know more about Iacon and Iaconian customs, but apparently that was not enough.”

Megatron was a little proud that he managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Mostly. Optimus tilted his helm to the side. “So you – suggest that we should learn how Kaonion customs work? Jazz, Arcee, Bumblebee, Bulkhead and I?”

“I suggest,” Megatron said, “that Team Pax and the RoRo-crew start spending more time with each other, off-set. To – get used to each other.”

Optimus’ smile took him a little by surprise. “That would be very nice. Megatron, may I tell you something?”

Megatron cocked his helm to the side. “Yes?”

“Jazz invited everyone here instead of having the screening at the studio because he knew Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Arcee would feel more comfortable here, and he figured that the rest of the crew would possibly alter their behaviour to a more – socially acceptable standard from an Iaconian perspective because of being intimidated by the mansion,” Optimus confessed, three finials flickering slightly. “It was not because he wanted everyone to know Gabbro Prime was his creator. In fact, he was quite apprehensive about that getting out.”

Megatron stared and then chuckled, dragging a servo over his face. “And I used to think it was difficult handling Sentinel!”

“He indeed seems to be something of a servoful,” Optimus agreed and Megatron reset his optics.

“So you know him?”

“I have met him on a few occasions, but I would not say I ‘know’ him. Chromia does, though, and she is Elita-1’s best friend.”

Primus, Megatron simply kept forgetting that Optimus Prime knew all of the actors he had only ever seen on screen in frame. “She played Femliet, am I right?”

“Yes.”

Megatron ex-vented. “I sympathise with her.”

Optimus’ blue optics scrutinised him. “I do not wish to appear pushy, but may I be permitted to ask why exactly you and Sentinel Prime were so at odds with each other?”

Megatron leant back in the chair and gazed back at him. “I do not even remember what precisely it was that led to it. Although his openly broadcast disdain for our attempts at establishing TIWU and his equally open disdain for our perceived lack of skills certainly played a part.”

Optimus nodded. “He certainly agrees with many Iaconians on a union such as TIWU being superfluous, I know that much. Still, I cannot help but wonder – on the few occasions I met him, he did not strike me as a mech who would openly voice his opinions, especially not if they did not happen to align with the opinions of those around him. Truth be told, he seemed to be a fairly unobtrusive mech.”

Megatron’s optic ridges rose. “‘Unobtrusive’ is about the last word I would have used to describe Sentinel as I know him. As I am sure Ratchet can corroborate.”

Optimus drew up his right, undamaged leg, looking pensive. “That is another detail confusing me. Ratchet tells me that when Sentinel started at Matrix, he was, in fact, a very quiet, almost shy mech. Which is why he took him under his doorwing. He figured someone had to teach him how to cope with all the Kaonites he was surrounded by.”

“As if Ratchet isn’t as bad as any of us,” Megatron muttered quietly, trying not to stare as Optimus rested his chin on his knee. If there wasn’t a mesh sheet in the way, he would be able to get a _great_ view of Optimus’ aft …

Optimus smiled again, distracting Megatron from wishing the sheet would simply disappear, or at least turn into glass. “No doubt he fits in very well in Kaon. I recall that even my superiors were wary of him in the military.”

“Who would not be,” Megatron said sourly and the smile grew broader.

“He is a force to be reckoned with.”

Megatron huffed. “I can’t imagine how Cybertron could struggle to win the War with Ratchet on our side. What I have never understood was why he took Sentinel under his doorwing.”

“Did you dislike him from the start?”

Megatron tried to remember and finally shook his helm. “I can remember that I wasn’t too impressed with him when he demanded that we give him his due as the youngest actor on set.”

An optic ridge rose. “He demanded to be shown courtesy by the senior actors?”

Megatron nodded. “It was somewhat ridiculous, too. Starscream, Soundwave and I were not exactly experienced actors back then either.” He huffed again. “Although that appears to be an Iaconian trait.”

The other optic ridge rose as well. “Demanding courtesy from the senior actors? I cannot think of a single senior actor in Iacon who would let them get away with that. Giving the younger ones time to ask questions and find their pedes is a courtesy, not a right.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge in reply. “Then I do have to ask how come they arrive in Kaon and believe it is their prerogative to demand it of us?”

They looked at each other and then Optimus ex-vented, one finial drooping. He was really being rather expressive. Megatron wondered if it was because they were in such a private setting or because of anything Ratchet had given Optimus to keep the pain at bay.

His internal comm interrupted the thread and he picked up immediately upon seeing the designation, with only a quick, “Sorry, I have to -”

Optimus smiled at him and waved towards a big window leading out onto a balcony. “Please.”

Megatron hurried outside. “Ultra Magnus.”

* * *

By the time Ultra Magnus had finished updating him, Megatron found that Jazz had joined Optimus in the meantime and was sitting on the pede-end of the berth, a tray with several treats beside him. Obviously he was taking his duties as host seriously. Megatron was just about to slide the door open and enter again when he caught the words.

“Deploying it again? Ma mech, I only asked if you were enjoying your visitor.”

“I heard well what you said, and I would ask you to change your wording,” Optimus replied, retracting the battlemask.

“Aww, OP. A mech wants to know! Come one, share with the class, what’s the deal with the mask? I’ve never known you to be that easily flustered.” Jazz was grinning broadly and received an ex-vent.

“Is it that obvious?”

Jazz cackled. “For someone who has known you for as long as I have? Hate to break it to ya, OP, but yeah, you are that obvious. So. The dirty details, please.”

Optimus cleared his intake. “There is little to say. It deploys every time I am embarrassed.”

“Yeah, I knew that. No chance of turning that off?”

Optimus shook his helm. “Other than controlling it? I don’t think so.”

“Huh. Is it wired into you?”

“Yes, it was the easiest way, since it is such an integral part of Orion’s kibble.”

“So no getting rid of it either.”

“I am afraid not.” Optimus sounded honestly regretful. Jazz was still grinning.

“So is there any particular reason it deploys most often when you are around Megatron?”

The mask snapped shut. Jazz broke into laughter. “Yeah, I thought so.”

His core temperature was getting dangerously close to triggering his cooling fans. Determined not to let that happen, Megatron pushed the door open and stepped back inside. “Director Jazz. We were just about to start discussing the three-episode frameswap arc. Would you like to stay, too?”


	10. Extensive Author’s Notes and Thoughts on the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains, first and foremost, a reference table for the real-world inspiration behind names and titles, but also a collection of my thoughts while I’m writing and posting it, which will grow more extensive as the story advances. If you are bored by meta-discussions by authors on their own works, feel free to skip this entirely, and if not, you’re welcome to dive right in :-)

Just in case anyone is wondering, here is the list of all the authors and playwrights and their works and references that I (ab)used for this fanfiction, listed by order of appearance, complete with my apologies for liberally borrowing all of the below for my purposes. If you want, tell me how many of them you you guessed ^^

Cybertronian version = Original  
Roll on, Roll out! = … really, that one’s obvious. And if it isn’t, I’m gonna say Power Rangers   
The Turning of the Screw = The Taming of the Shrew (despite the similarity to the Henry-James-novel, it’s Shakespeare I was looking to)  
Sense & Sensory Ability = Sense & Sensibility   
Mecheo & Femliet = Romeo & Juliet   
Shakespark = William Shakespeare   
Mechlet = Hamlet   
Fluxworks = Dreamworks   
Rescue Mecha = Rescue Bots   
A Mid-dry-season’s Recharge Flux = A Midsummer Night’s Dream   
Mechtrius = Demetrius (from play above)  
Ra-She (Arcee’s role) = She-Ra  
Sun Saber (because the Temple wouldn’t be happy) = Star Saber   
The Three Fusion-Cannoneers = The Three Musketeers   
CSS Distant Skies = USS Enterprise   
Plane Coasting = Jane Austen  
Pride & Predacons = Pride & Prejudice  
Mechtacus = Spartacus  
Shakespark in Love = Shakespeare in Love  
Metro-Golden-Missile = Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer  
Thunderwings = Thunderbirds  
Star Paths = Star Trek  
Captain Steelyard = Jean-Luc Picard  
S4V = S4C (Channel Four Wales)  
A Toy’s Habsuite = Et dukkehjem  
Honora = Nora Helmer (from play above)  
A Recharge Flux Play = Ett drömspel  
The Solvent Sparklings = The Water Babies  
IBSC (Iacon Broadcasting Sparkling Channel) = BBC Ceebies  
The Convoy of Mount Crystal = The Count of Monte Christo  
Servoclench = Faust  
Glitch = Psycho  
The Image Capture of Silverspray = The Picture of Dorian Gray  
Gabbro Prime = Greta Garbo  
Wild Rider = First Officer William Riker  
Brake’s 7 = Blake’s 7  
Red Cassette = Red Dwarf  
AI-DA = Aida (the Verdi opera)  
The Functioning of Others = Das Leben der Anderen  
Sounds of Rust = Si le vent soulève les sables  


* * *

**The holovid industry and its role in Cybertronian society**

This being an AU, I permitted myself to mess around quite a bit with what I know about Cybertronian society. The first and foremost premise of this fic is that the whole society, laws, rules, everything, are based on their interpretation of ancient texts, which come in the form of plays. The most important of those plays are the myths about Primus, Unicron and the thirteen original Primes. The way I imagine it, back in the first days of Cybertron, in order to spread knowledge and awareness of Primus and the Thirteen, the first priests in the Temple of Primus organised public shows where the myths were re-enacted by specially trained priests, followed by public discussions on what could be learnt from the events depicted and what the audience should take away, both on a personal and a societal level.

This, by the way, is heavily inspired by and based on the existence and function of mystery and morality plays in medieval Europe, Greek theatre and passion plays.

Some of those discussions turned into inspiration for spin-off plays, which in turn were enacted alongside the mystery plays by lay actors, contributing to the discussion. Over the course of time, more and more of those plays were written, some of which were incorporated into the Temple-approved canon, while others were considered as not adding enough to the discussion, and lay entertainment – basically, the Cybertronian version of trash TV.

As the number of plays grew, so did the demand for more actors, which resulted in the Temple appointing certain actors as “Prime”, indicating that they were trained to the standards the Temple held, and basically licensed to act in the original mystery plays.

Society developed further, institutions specialised, the Temple stopped training actors and left it to the Academy of Arts, who then also got to appoint new Primes, although the Temple still gets a say in who is actually chosen, and also in which studio is given permission to shoot a new version of one of the canonised plays. The Iaconian studies generally come out on top of this due to their proximity to the Temple and the first Academy of Arts, and their productions are what would be considered blockbusters in our world.

Which, if I may say so, is probably the part about this fanfiction that most challenges my own suspension of disbelief XD Let’s just pretend Cybertronians are theatre nerds and either really into their myths or into their Primes, shall we? ;-)

As more cities developed, they also jumpstarted their own holovid industries, but with the canonised plays pretty much under embargo, they had to look elsewhere. So naturally, they started making use of the plays that never were canonised and adapted those in their own particular fashion. Tarn, with its huge military influence, went for action holovids – basically anything with huge mecha and explosions, and if they so happen to be soldiers, all the better (and now you know how Optimus came to star in _The Three Fusion-Cannoneers_ ). _Die Hard_ or _The A-Team_ would be shot in Tarn. (Just so we’re clear, though, _Saving Private Ryan_ or _Apocalypse Now_ would come out of Polyhex if the studios there had the shanix for it.)

Vos, with its huge population of fliers, naturally went for everything flight- and space-related: They got the _CSS Distant Skies,_ shoot stuff like _Armageddon_ and sometimes get someone in from Polyhex to do stuff like _A Space Oddysee_.

Polyhex, just like Megatron says, is populated by geeks. They don’t do alien invasions, they don’t do external-influences-threaten-our-planet, they specialise in independent holovids and dystopian scripts, much to the annoyance of Iacon and the Temple. Scriptwriters from Polyhex are fairly frequently hired by Tarn or Vos, because they have great ideas, but their scripts are then carefully rendered more palatable to the general public.

Kaon pretty much only has two studios: Matrix Studios, which does sparkling holovids, and an unnamed studio which does robo porn. Yep, that’s it. Iacon, Vos and Tarn all have their own sparkling holovid branches, but Alpha Trion loves the kids best and knows what they want to watch :-) His reasons for moving Matrix Studios to Kaon instead of staying in Iacon, where he started out, are his own, and likely more complex than anyone can even fathom XD

Other cities may have studios, but they pretty much struggle to survive.

Since the holovid industry is so divided by city, there is a lot of frametype-casting going on, although that doesn’t mean there aren’t a few mecha who make it in other cities. If you want to make a career in Iacon, however, you had better study at the Academy there, otherwise the best you can get is a one-sentence-dies-within-five-minutes role.

Or the bad guy.

In terms of which plays are canonised and which aren’t, I mainly chose to stick to books and plays which frequently turn up in “100 best … of all times”-lists. They are therefore extremely euro-centric, since most of the works on there are European, if not from the Anglosphere. That decision, in turn, was based on me messing around with the titles, so I had to try and stick to stuff my readers would be able to recognise without too much trouble (with a few self-indulgent exceptions …). The Temple realised at some point that they couldn’t simply make do with putting on the same myth again and again and again, and started to take their pick from the plays written by other authors. Just like the real literary canon, the process of what ended up being canonised and what didn’t is, at best, explained by the “literary value” ascribed to a specific play … with very few mecha knowing what “literary value” actually is.

Other than in the real world, though, most mecha on Cybertron have actually read all of the plays on the list, which might just explain why they can stand to watch a hundred different versions of _Sense & Sensory Ability_.

Although … *eyes DVDs on shelf*coughs* Maybe I shouldn’t be talking.


End file.
